Role Model: The 100th Hunger Games
by david12341
Summary: "Everyone thinks that they want to be a hero. But deep down nobody really does. Nobody wants to die just for some silly morals they follow. Nobody wants to sacrifice themselves for someone else. Nobody wants to always have to do the right thing for the greater good, no matter what it does to themselves. Nobody wants to be a role model."
1. Role Model

**Caleb Ainsley, 39, District 5**

I take a sip from my drink and set it back down on the counter next to me, leaning back into my chair. On the screen in front of me the highlights of the 98th games are being played in all their glory, part of the annual hype before every Hunger Games. Last year was a fairly boring year by the Capital's standards, with Lucian Slate from District 1, another one of the cookie cutter careers that have been pumped out recently, dismantling any competition. The arena was a simple forest with few mutts, in an attempt to save extra money for the quarter quell arena. Because of that it was quickly forgotten, much to the dismay of Lucian I'm sure, with all the hype staying on the games two years ago, Audra's games.

The highlights from the games are slowly pulling to a close, now at the finale, with just Audra, the boy from one, and the boy from two left. All of them are standing in the middle of a field, the two boys armed to the teeth with weapons, while Audra sits defenseless as a pack of mutts bears down on them. I click off the TV and kick my feet up on the table. I remember being in the mentor room when this was happening, I don't need highlights to remind me of it. It was the first time in my 23 years of mentoring that one of my tributes had made the finale, so I was nervous, and rightfully so.

Audra had no right winning those games, and the fact that she did would be chalked up to just ridiculous luck by anyone looking in from the outside. But over the last 25 years as a mentor if I've learnt one thing, it's that in the games, there's no such thing as luck. Everything that is perceived as being a lucky break, or a fortunate turn, is just the Gamemakers meddling with the games. Nobody wins that they don't want to. Nobody dies that they want to live.

It's the reason that I won, it's the reason Audra won, and it'll be the reason the next District 5 victor wins 30 years from now. On any normal year without the Gamemakers deciding it the careers will always win, outside of the one or two times a true miracle happens. But every once in a while the Capital will gift a win to a certain district for something in return. In my year, the 76th games, the last flames of the rebellion were still being put out. Almost all districts were completely under control again. All of the inner four districts never even swayed far away, District 12 was completely destroyed and in the process of being rebuilt, 6 through 11 were under heavy peacekeeper pressure, and with District 13 striking a peace treaty with the Capital in order to remain at least somewhat sovereign, only district 5 had some fight left in them.

Of course, there was a simple solution for the Capital. Give us a victor, and make it obvious that if we played along, then we would continue to get our children back. They stuck us in an arena that was a fully functional power plant, and directed me to a control room where I was able to wipe out the whole career alliance from afar. I never had to so much as touch another tribute the whole games, and still won the games in just five days.

The games were some of the lowest rated ever, and I haven't exactly ever been in the limelight that Audra has, but the message was still clear to the district, and the last sparks of rebellion died within the next year, the last flames of rebellion in Panem extinguished. Despite that however, the Capital made sure the next two years were the toughest of all.

Left as the only surviving victor from the district, it was up to me alone to mentor the tributes, and I failed horribly, with all four dying in the bloodbath. Snow in that time also began cracking down even harder then before, with even the once rich of the district reduced to barely scraping by day to day.

Thankfully for all of us, on the first day of the 79th Hunger Games, Snow finally dropped dead, and with nobody in his family left but his granddaughter, who was far too young at the time to rule the nation, The Capital held it's first democratic elections, electing a half-decent woman by the name of Cassandra Young. She completely flipped from the stance that snow had, and surplus of food and other support from the Capital quickly turned us into one of the richest districts in Panem, which thanks to President Young, actually meant something.

Still people starve to death, there are still whippings for crimes against the Capital, and Avoxes are still made from those who speak of rebellion. But at the same time poverty is on the decline and the laws have eased up considerably, and continue to do so. Just a few years ago the Capital even opened up restricted travel to the Capital for the higher ups from District 1 and 2, and are looking to do the same with 3, 4 and 5 soon. Who knows, they might even start giving us some human rights, now that would be something.

The TV blares to life, and I sit back up in my chair, letting out a yawn. Here's what I've been waiting all day for, the quarter quell announcement, where we get to see what kind of fucked up, sadistic ideas the Capital have come up with this year. On the TV a trio of animated "Hunger Games experts" discuss the past quells and possibilities of this year, which I zone out, waiting for the president to come on out and get it over with. After what feels like an eternity of talking the games to death, they finally switch over to the presidential mansion, where President Young, now in her final year of her final term, is preparing a speech.

"Welcome one and all, to the announcement of the fourth Quarter Quell!" A roar comes up from the audience, and she pauses for a moment before continuing. "100 years ago the great nation of Panem established the Hunger Games as an annual reminder of the district's crimes against the Capital. At the time of the creation, it was stated by the founders that every 25 years a special games will be held to commemorate 25 years of peace as a nation!" Another cheer comes from the crowd, and Young lets out a laugh, holding up her hand. She proceeds to go through all the other quells twists, before signalling a young girl with a box stacked with cards to come forward. Young smiles at the girl, and takes out the card marked 100 and carefully rips it open, slowly unfolding the card.

The crowd goes dead silent, all of them in suspense as to what the twist will be. "And for the fourth quarter quell, to remind the districts that when they die, their children die with them, each district will have one tribute reaped of normal age, then paired with a 5-11 year old. If the tribute dies, so does the child, and if the child dies, the tribute will as well. We wish you all a happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

As the audience explodes in cheering and applause, I do nothing but lean back into my chair, and let out a sigh. A pounding sound comes from the door and I reach over to the table, grabbing a drink. This is going to be a long-ass year.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everybody, David here with what will now be my 3rd SYOT, and hopefully will be my 2nd successful one. My last one got cut off because of some IRL things I had to deal with that are now over, so I'm going to do my best to finish this one all the way through, however long it takes. So on this SYOT, I'm going to be accepting 12 standard tributes, then 12 more of the younger tributes. There will be no gender restrictions for the tributes, so there can be 2 boys or girls per district, or it can be 1 and 1 like usual. All of the POV's will be from the standard tributes b/c I have no idea how to write 5 year old's inner thoughts, though the younger tributes will still get plenty of time because they will be tied in with an older tribute, you just won't be able to read their thoughts. Tribute forms is on my profile, I'll be accepting tributes for about 2 weeks, though depending on how many good tributes I get, it may be shorter or longer. You can submit 3 tributes, though odds are I'm only going to accept 2, and would prefer to get at least 1 tribute and 1 kid from you if you do submit 3. Looking forward to seeing your tributes and getting this started!**

 **PS: PLEASE READ THE RULES/BACKGROUND INFO BEFORE YOU SUBMIT**

 **PSS: Also, just so everybody knows, the prologues are short because I broke the original prologue I had into 3 parts so I could focus on accepting characters instead of writing chapters during the submission period, so normal chapters will be longer, probably around 4~6k words.**

 **PSSS: Reviews are food.**


	2. Introductions

**A/N: So I originally planned on submitting this a week from now, but I didn't get many tributes yet and I'm going on a two day road trip on Tuesday so I want to be able to write some reapings then. So I'm going to post this and then next Saturday I might post another prologue, depending on how many tributes I still need, then on the 23rd I'm posting the first chapters. Updates should be coming either weekly or bi-weekly being released on Saturdays, and I'll leave a note on my profile if I don't update it within two weeks. But anyways, hope you all enjoy, and make sure to keep submitting, I need tributes to write a story!**

* * *

 **The Hunger Games Panel**

With a roar the crowd jumps to their feet, cheers echoing throughout the studio as the host, a man with dark brown hair and eyes who appears to be in his late 30's by the name of Apollo Thompson, runs up on stage, taking his place behind a podium facing three chairs. Apollo holds up his hand to the crowd, letting out a laugh.

"Welcome everybody to the Hunger Games Panel!" An applause runs through the audience and Apollo lets out a chuckle. "Today we will be joined by three Hunger Games experts who will be discussing this years twist, and later we will be joined by a special guest, so make sure to stay tuned." Apollo picks up a card from the podium, and begins reading off of it. "And now please give a warm welcome for this years guests! First up, we have the Actor and Hunger Games announcer, Alexa Reed!"

A tall young woman with long pink hair and sea green eyes struts out onto the stage, and takes the seat on the very left, crossing her leg over her knee and giving a wink to the crowd, causing the audience to go wild.

Rolling his eyes, earning a round of laughter from the crowd, Apollo continues. "Next up we have Hunger Games statistician and reporter, Adrien Brown!"

A young man with slicked back light brown hair and shades jumps onto the stage, waving as he takes his seat next to Alexa, earning another eye roll from Apollo that this time goes mostly unnoticed besides a few chuckles in the front row.

"Finally, back again for his 10th year, you already know who it is, give it up for ex-Gamemaker Anthony Guy!"

An old man in his late 50's walks out to the stage, quietly taking his seat, giving a terse nod towards Apollo, who returns it. Apollo lets out a cough and sets down the first card, picking up another one. "Thank you all for your time, let's go ahead and jump right into the hot topics. First things first, what are your thoughts on this years twist? Alexa we'll go ahead and start with you."

"Thank you Apollo, let me just say I'm happy to be here with the top experts of the field to discuss this years games." She pauses, and after a second shrugs. "Honestly, I've heard a lot of hype from the twist, but I'm not a big fan. I'm a bit worried about them pushing the cruelty factor too far for the games to the point it won't even be fun, but rather horrifying. The first and second quells were intriguing twists, but nothing to gasp at, and the third quell developed some intriguing interactions between tributes. On top of that, and much more worrying, with the twist I don't see anybody volunteering, which combined with half the tributes being non-combatants, there's not going to be much action in this games, and I hate to say it but I sense it being a boring games."

Apollo nods, and turns over to the statistician. "Adrien, I can see you over there shaking your head, I presume you disagree."

Adrien lets out a chuckle and nods his head. "Yes, I vehemently disagree with her idea of this game being boring. I think everybody likes to think that exciting is equal to the amount of action, but in reality out of the five games with the top ratings, only the 50th was due to it being action packed. The 72nd, 73nd, 75th, and 98th were all insanely popular due to the storylines between the tributes. The alliances, the drama, the relationships developed between those in the games. That is what makes an interesting games, and this twist has already set those up perfectly."

The audience roars in approval, and Apollo turns towards the last panel member. "Mr. Guy," he starts, earning a chuckle from the crowd and a grin from the ex-Gamemaker, "your thoughts?"

Readjusting his tie, he begins, "Well I think both bring up valid points, but what it will really come down to is not the twist itself, but how the Gamemakers take advantage of it and play to it's strengths. As an ex-Gamemaker myself I've been brought in many times to give my opinion on arenas, and I know they were bouncing between three separate ones, and although all of them were fantastic arenas in their own right, only one of them was fit for the type of games that this twist will thrive in. If they attempt to make this an action-packed, intense and suspenseful games, and send in a crazy arena, it will dilute the emotional effect that is possible with this games. The games should be all about focusing on the tributes themselves and their interactions with each other, with the arena as a backdrop, and not the other way around like other quells have been."

Alexa nods her head. "Yes, you're certainly correct about the arena being important, although I disagree with you on having the arena be a backdrop. This is a quarter quell, it should be the time once every 25 years where the Gamemakers pull out all the stops to create an insane arena that blows our minds. Look at the other quells, the second and third quell in particular, with the beautiful but deadly landscapes that keeps the tributes on their toes. Without that it loses that sense of added danger that the quells normally have and feels like just any other games that doesn't have a twist."

"You're half-right." Adrien replies. "But you're missing the key point. This year a deadly landscape will decimate the competition so quickly that tributes won't even get a chance to kill each other. Even if you like action, it'll be boring. The other arenas worked because we had 4 times the amount of normal tributes, not one half, and because in the third quell the arena was dangerous, but large enough to not go by too fast. The fact is with the twist we have this year, it's gonna have to be a slower games, which is perfectly fine, and something I'm looking forward to."

A buzzer sounds and the camera turns back to Apollo. "Thank you all for your insight, we actually took out a poll with citizens of the Capital on their opinion and the results are a resounding 83% favorability rating for this years twist, so it would appear that Alexa would be in the minority here." Alexa shrugs, causing a chuckle from the crowd before Apollo turns towards the camera and continues. "A reminder for all of you at home that we'll be here throughout the pre-games to give you the low-down on everything Hunger Games, so make sure to keep tuning in for our expert analysis. After the break we'll be having an exclusive interview from the victor nobody can seem to stop talking about, Audra Lee from district 5. We'll see you all after the break."

The audience applauds and Apollo gives a smile, setting down the cards onto the podium and giving a quick wave to the camera as it pans away to the crowd before fading into commercials.

* * *

The camera fades back from commercials and back to the studio, where Apollo is now seated and facing another chair. In that seat is a short 15-year-old girl with light brown hair that drapes down to her shoulders and dark brown eyes that are glancing around nervously. "Welcome back everybody!" Apollo begins. "I'm joined here by Audra Lee from district 5, how are you doing?"

Audra gives a slight smile. "I'm doing good, thank you. I'm glad to be back in the Capital for the next week."

Apollo nods. "Yes, for those of you at home that don't know, all the victors have been called to the Capital for a meeting which we, sadly, have no information on." The crowd lets out a groan, and Apollo gives a mock frown.

Letting out a giggle, Audra responds, "If it makes you feel any better, I don't know why I'm here either."

"Just a bit." Apollo replies, giving a slight chuckle. "But onto the matter at hand, we just got done discussing this years quell with our experts, and I'd like to know your opinion on the twist."

Audra shuffles in her chair. "I don't know, last year it was weird mentoring kids who are older then me, it felt like there was nothing I could even really do for them. But I think I'd much rather mentor kids who are older then me and don't need my help rather than ones who are younger and are actually counting on my help to survive."

"Well I'm sure that you'll do a fantastic job mentoring next year." Apollo says, giving a reassuring smile. "On the subject of mentoring however, last year it was your fellow mentor Caleb Ainsley who gave the customary speeches after your tributes death, so we never got to hear what your experiences as a mentor was, mind sharing what it was like?"

"Ummm," Audra trails off, looking towards her feet. "Well, I don't know really, Caleb did most of the work with giving them advice, and he didn't let me come out to get sponsors, saying that he would need to wait till I was older so I didn't screw anything up. . . ." The crowd lets out a laugh, and Apollo gives her a slight smile. "Other than that I just sat in the mentoring booths the whole time and watched the games. . . . I talked with a few other mentors a couple of times, Tristan from 12 was really nice, but I didn't really do much."

"Well, I hope that things go as easily for you this year as they did last year." Audra gives a nervous smile, which Apollo returns. "So we got to hear a bit from how you've been enjoying victor life from your victory tour, but that was over a year ago, are things still going the same?"

Audra shrugs, "Kind of, it's still really weird having more money then you can even spend, but its certainly made things easier for all of us. My dad still works at the plant, he says he'd die of boredom otherwise, and my brothers and sisters all still go to school, so I'm stuck by myself a lot. Which on the bright side means I'm all up to date on all the soap operas, so if you ever get bored of the games we can talk about 'Ut fit in Mundo' anytime."

Apollo lets out a chuckle, and shakes his head. "I'm afraid I'm not quite up to date with Capital TV, but if I ever do and need someone to talk to I'll remember to come to you." Audra lets out a giggle, and Apollo turns back to the camera. "Thank you all for joining us on the Hunger Games Panel, make sure to tune in after the reapings where we'll bring our panel back on to give their first reactions to this years tributes. Happy Hunger Games, and as always, may the odds be ever in your favor."


	3. Hellbound

**A/N: Hey everybody, last prologue here. This is super short and the quality of this might be a bit lower then usual, because I seriously underestimated how hard writing in a car is, but either way it helps introduce a character that's going to be somewhat important in my series, so it does serve as more then just filler. I'm going to publish the first chapter next week, but I'm unsure about one thing, do you guys want updates on Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays? Either drop a reply in the review section or vote on my poll. As always, hope everybody enjoys and see you all next week!**

* * *

 **Apollo Thompson, 44, Hunger Games Interviewer**

"Talon Dawson." I state simply to the 40 year old Head Gamemaker, sticking out my hand.

"Mr. Thompson." He replies, taking the handshake while looking me strait in the eye, a bored look glazed over his eyes. The two of us continue with the lazy stare for about 10 seconds before I break out laughing, with him soon following suite.

Shaking my head, I bring back my hand and slap him on the back, and the two of us turn to walk down the empty hall.

The laughter finally dies down, and I turn to him. "Can't believe year 25 is finally here, seems like just yesterday I was a dumb kid who had to no idea what questions to ask 24 kids that are about to brutally be murdered."

"Guess much hasn't changed then." He replies, letting out a chuckle.

I roll my eyes, and give him a light punch on the shoulder. "Hey, you're telling me, I'm just glad that this is my last year finally." For Hunger Games interviewers its always been tradition to be the interviewer for 25 years, ending your career with a quell. And hey, I'm no man to break tradition. Tradition exists for a reason after all.

"Wouldn't be so sure about that, I've heard rumors about letting you break tradition and go on for however long as you can."

"Well aren't I Mr. popular now, eh?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't let it get to your head, have to deal enough over-inflated egos as it is." He pauses for moment, then asks, "So what are you going to do after your finished then? Not anything Hunger Games related I suppose?"

I let out a snort. "I'll burn in hell sooner then go through that shit-show again." I shake my head. "Naw, I'm just gonna go find a nice mansion out in the mountain near district two, and spend the rest of my life sipping martinis and sitting in hot tubs. Hell, might even finally teach myself how to snowboard, always looked like fun."

Talon grunts in approval. "I feel you on that one. If I had the choice I'd have to consider joining you." He pauses for a moment then laughs. "I'll have to pass on the snowboarding though, I'd rather not break both my legs, I've heard that's rather unpleasant."

My mind flashes back, and I find myself in a place that I don't often think about. My childhood. A stupid accident, a thug who thinks that he needs to teach me a lesson, a cracking noise coming from my legs, the flash of fire accompanied by a gunshot ringing out.

"Apollo, you alright?" Talon is staring at me, eyebrow raised up in confusion.

I let out a fake cough and nod my head, letting out a sigh. No need to think about my past when my future is still in motion. "Ya, I'm fine."

Talon slowly nods his head, and the two of us continue in silence for another minute before reaching the Gamemaker room. He swipes his card and the two of us enter into the empty room. I've been here just before the games for the past 25 years, and it still looks the same as ever. Just a large 3d map in the middle of the room, with three rows of desks circling around it, all full of buttons and other features that do who knows what.

Without a word, Talon walks up to the desk at the very top, and after punching a few buttons, the map comes to life, revealing this year's arena.

I walk up closer to it, and take a look. Most years for the arena they just take a natural area somewhere in Panem, and add in a force field, mutts, and cameras. It's simple, not distracting, and cheap. This arena fits none of those descriptions however, and is nothing like any other arena I've seen before. Throughout the whole arena I see more flashing lights indicating specific additions to the arena then ever before. They really did go all out this year didn't they?

"So, what do you think?" Talon asks.

I shake my head. "It's dangerous, that's for sure. If this works then you'll be a legend, but if it goes wrong they'll string you up."

He shrugs. "I'm not worried, all of the candidates leading polls coming into the election are all anti-killing Gamemakers for failing at their job, thank the gods for that radical idea they've come up with."

"They might make an amendment just for you if this goes as bad as it possibly can." I reply, shaking my head as I take on last look at the arena.

"I'm willing to take that risk." He replies, shutting down the map. "And if it does go wrong, at least I get to go down in a blaze of glory while I'm still in my prime, the whole world watching me on live TV."

"Can't argue with you there." I mutter. "Sometimes I wish that woulda been my path."

He nods tersely. "And besides, if this does go right, I'll be able to retire and nobody will argue with me. There's no way in hell I'm topping this again, whether that's for the worse or the better."

I let out a chuckle. "So both of us are going to be retired, huh? That'll be interesting to say the least."

"Hey, who knows?" He says, patting me on the back with a laugh. "Maybe we could make our own reality TV show, call it the banter games and just air us sitting in your mansion sipping on those martinis you promised while we argue back and forth about whatever the hell those TV show people argue about."

The two of us burst out laughing, and I shake my head. "I have some connections that would actually probably buy that idea, but first you have to do your best to not die this year."

"Ya, and hey," he says, punching me in the shoulder and pointing at me, "you too. We got one more of year of hell, I sure as hell better be seeing you on the other side of this mess."

"One more year of hell? You and me man?" I snort, and shake my head. "We're already hellbound."


	4. Soldier

**A/N: So, first chapter has finally arrived, the format for this will be that each character will get their own chapter(for now), because I wrote way too much to do 2 POV's here. And just for the fun of it I'll give everybody a theme song because that's always cool. But anyways, big thanks to MidnightRaven323 for submitting Alerio, and a shoutout to my beta HogwartsDreamer113 for all her help! Anyways, hope you all enjoy, make sure to review, and here's your first chapter!(PS: cookie points for anyone who knows the artist of the song without googling it)**

* * *

 **Alerio Weissman, 17, District 2**

"Attention!" The scream of the drill sergeant snaps me into position, standing straight up with both arms tightly at my side. He walks down the line of cadets, glaring at us, looking for anybody who's posture is just the least bit off to use as an excuse to make us extend the training and do more drills.

He walks past me, and I manage to stop myself from letting out my breathe and slouching back down as he does, a habit that I've been hard pressed to get rid of in my career as a peacekeeper in training. Just as he reaches the end of the line and I begin to think we might be able to go early, he shouts out, "un-clench those fists cadet! Everybody drop down and give me 50, stat!"

I resist rolling my eyes as I drop to the ground and reluctantly begin the exercise. Last time I did that I earned everybody 50 more push-ups, and that didn't go so well with everybody else afterwards. I finish up the last of my push-ups and snap back to my feet, and the drill sergeant eyes through the line one more time. "And make sure to thank cadet Marcellus for the opportunity to prove yourselves today, you are all dismissed."

Everybody in line salutes the sergeant and he briefly turns and walks back into the academy. While the rest of the line mutters angrily about my idiot friend, I shrug my shoulders and weave my way through a few cadets to make it to him. By the time I get to the end of the line Lazarus is already there laughing with Marcellus, while a few others stare angrily at the pair.

Marcellus turns and waves to me then sticks his hands in his pocket, continuing to talk with Lazarus. I tap him on the shoulder and salute to him, keeping my face devoid of any emotion. "Thank you cadet Marcellus for the opportunity to prove myself today, sir!"

Lazarus lets out a laugh and Marc rolls his eyes, punching me in the shoulder. "Don't mention it cadet Alerio. . . ." he pauses, then quickly salutes and adds, "sir."

I bring down my salute and bow to him, and as I go to stand up find myself being tackled onto the ground, rolling in the hard grass. I spit out a bit of dirt and shake my head as I slowly bring myself to my feet as Marc and Laz stand above me laughing. "Now I wonder who in the world that could have been." I say dryly.

"Guess who?" The answer comes from behind me in the form of the silvery voice of my cousin Naevia. Just as I begin to turn around she jumps onto my shoulder, nearly sending me to the ground again, but I keep myself up and instead stutter forward.

"Some chick high off crack?" I ask innocently.

She lets out a giggle and jumps in front of me revealing the small 17-year-old brunette. "Close, just a chick high off adrenaline." She slurs the last word, cracking up as she says it.

I roll my eyes. "And I'm guessing you got that from the fact that you're in a highly restricted area that you could be shot on sight for trespassing."

"Spot on as always," She replies with a wink before turning to my friends and throwing up her shoulders. "What, no greetings for your favorite person in the world you guys? Come on, you flatter me."

Laz opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by Marc punching him in the shoulder. "How did you get in here exactly?" He asks curiously.

She brings her finger up to her mouth and loudly shushes, pausing for a few seconds before whispering. " _Secrets._ "

I let out a laugh and Laz just shakes his head. "I don't think you were far off with the crack idea Rio."

I shrug, and Marc adds in, "Probably not, I heard that they always jack up careers on all sort of shit before reapings to make sure they don't chicken out."

"Ah ah ah." Vi says, leaning towards Marc. "What did I tell you earlier. . . . _"_ She brings her finger up to her lip again and glances around. "S _ecrets."_

Laz nods his head. "Alright, so that answers that question." Marc and I both nod in approval, and Laz scratches the back of his head as I dust off my pants. "So we have two hours before the reaping, you guys down for some cards? Marc jacked 'em from one of the newer cadets while he wasn't looking."

Vi lets out a yawn before either of us two can respond, and shakes her head. "Cards? You guys are sooo boring." She drawls out. "Why don't we do something _fun._ "

I raise an eyebrow at her, and Laz lets out a cough, before Marc speaks up. "uhh. . . . pass." He turns to Laz and pulls out a deck of cards from his pocket. "I think I'll play some cards instead, you in Rio?"

I shake my head. "Naw I'm going to town to meet up with my brother before the reaping."

Vi punches me on the shoulder and grins. "Same!"

Marc shrugs. "Have fun. . . ." He glances over at Vi, who puts her hands on her hips and gives him a mock frown. "not too much fun though."

"Noted." I reply, giving him a quick salute which he and Laz lazily return before turning to head off to our bunks.

"So cuz, you pumped up for today?" She says to me as we begin walking out of the training grounds.

"Oh ya, nothing gets my blood going more then seeing my crazy cousin getting ready to cut 5-year-olds heads off." I turn to her and nod my head. "Fun times."

"Finally, someone that gets it!" She replies. "You know, not many people understand that sometimes a girl just has to slaughter a couple of kids to really feel her total 100 percent, ya know?"

"Oh ya," I drawl out. "Hell, I don't know where I would be without my weekly virgin sacrifices I do."

She lets out a giggle and shakes her head. "I've seen you and your crew at the clubs before, and I have to question whether there's any virgins in the district for you to sacrifice."

"Hey, you're one to talk-" I cut myself off as we reach the main gate and are stopped by the guard.

The guard points to Vi and turns to me. "I assume your visitor here has a pass to be here?" He asks, raising his eyebrow.

I open my mouth to respond, but Vi kicks my shin and I stay quiet. "Yup, of course I do." She says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a laminated slip of paper. The guard looks at her and the pass wearily but shrugs, and waves us forward.

"Reaping day anyways." He mutters under his breathe as we walk past.

I turn over to Vi to ask her how she got the pass, but she brings her finger up to my lip and shushes me. "Secrets." She says, glancing around.

"Well Vi," I say exasperatedly, "I can't guarantee that you're not gonna get yourself killed in the games, but the Capital is sure as hell going to love you."

She giggles and punches me on the shoulder. "You're too kind, really." The two of us sit in silence for a minute before she speaks back up. "But I don't know."

"About what?" I turn to her.

"About volunteering. I mean, I don't have any problems with killing kids, that's whatever. Hell, even a 5-year-old I think I could kill without losing too much sleep. But the whole having to be tethered to a little kid? Seems a little shady to me, I don't like it. And on top of that quells in general are bad news, careers haven't won one yet, and the arenas are all really wacky. I think I'll just wait, I can still volunteer next year and have a better chance of not dying in there."

I nod my head. "Makes sense to me, I sure as hell wouldn't want to put my life on the line unless I knew I was 100 percent prepared for it."

She kicks a rock on the ground and nods. "Ya, but on the other hand if I do win this year I'll be a legend." She shrugs. "Who the hell knows, maybe I'll volunteer, maybe I won't. Guess I'll just find out at the reapings and whatever happens happens."

"Suppose so." I reply, sticking my hands in my pockets as the two of us walk in silence. This continues for another five minutes before the town center comes into view and she turns over to me.

"Well, nice talking to ya Rio, I gotta go to academy quick to check some stuff, I'll see you around." She stops for a second then shrugs. "Well, probably."

"Hopefully." I reply, letting out a laugh. "If I don't get to at least get onto your visitors list I'll be pretty disappointed. I mean, I know there's a huge list there, all those admirers you got, but try to make room for an old pal if you can."

She rolls her eyes and lightly kicks my foot. "Don't worry, I'll do my best to find a place for you among all my star-struck fans. I'll talk to you later."

I wave to her and she abruptly turns and walks away to the outskirts of the town center towards the academy, and I continue walking to the center, passing by my brother Helios' place that he calls home, a two story building that serves as the front of his stonemason store, where he creates jewelry and statues for the rich of the district. The same job that our father had, and his father, and who knows how many generations back. Of course, as much as I respect my brother's hard work, it never was the path for me. While we need people to create nice things that require creativity and culture, we also need people who keep the world stable enough for those things to exist in the first place. Doing that was always my calling, family tradition or not.

A few minutes later I reach the reaping area, which at this point is almost completely empty due to how early I am. The area has it's normal set up in place, the large square housing the kids at the reaping, this time split into two areas with 12-18 and 5-11 signs instead of the normal male and female ones. At the end of the square in front of the justice building is a stage with the two reaping balls and a podium in between them, along with a few chairs for the victors and other government officials. The buildings surrounding the square are all set up with balconies for those who want the best view of the action, while banners holding the Panem's logo drape down. Outside of the square a long line of standing room viewing is in place, huge TV's set up so everyone can see the action.

Deciding to get checked in early, I walk up to one of the peacekeepers and quickly get my blood scanned without the hassle of waiting in line forever, then walk over to the front of my section and patiently wait for the people to start flooding into the area.

Within the next half hour the rest of the kids begin to check in as I stand still near the front, waiting for this day to be over with. Reapings never were my favorite, but that has less to do with the reapings themselves and more of what happens after them. The Hunger Games. When they were first established perhaps you could say that they served a purpose, but by now they're just a glorified execution that needs to end already. The Capital has full control of the districts without them, and the Hunger Games only adds an unnecessary source of resentment and suffering for the districts. But then again, what do I know I guess.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I spin around to find Vi looking at me with a goofy grin on her face. "Thanks for saving me a spot cuz."

"My pleasure." I reply, sticking my hands in my pockets. "So you gonna volunteer or no?"

She shrugs. "Still not sure, I'm just gonna go 100% spur of the moment, whatever my gut tells me I do."

I nod, and glance up to the stage to find that all the victors and officials are now seated, with only a few stragglers getting checked in at the blood test line."Sounds good to me. The reaping looks like it's starting any minute now, you seen Laz or Marc by any chance?"

She shakes her head. "Nope, I've been busy getting some last minute prep at the center, just now got here."

Our conversation is cut short by the booming of the mic, and I look up on stage to see the escort- a frail women in her 30s with light skin, blonde hair, and unnaturally bright blue eyes- walking up to the podium with a big grin on her face. She goes through all of the normal stuff, introductions to this year's quell, how much she's thrilled to be here, and of course the rebellion tape that I can replay from memory at this point.

The tape finishes up and she taps the mic once, giving a big smile to the crowd. "Thank you all for having me here in your lovely district for this very special occasion. No let us get the reaping for the 100th annual Hunger Games underway!"

A polite cheer comes from the crowd, much quieter then normal years roar, though the escort seems to not notice, walking over to the smaller bowl to the right of the stage. She reaches to the bottom of the bowl, fishing out a slip of paper, and struts back to the stage. The crowd is dead quiet as she slowly unravels the slip, everyone watching with bated breath to see what will happen.

"And our first tribute, from the 5-11 year old age group, put your hands together for the 7-year-old Fiona Graham!" I have to hold back my shock for a moment when nobody begins screaming out that they're volunteering, reminding myself that the oldest that can volunteer for her is 11 year olds, which means likely there will be no second career this year.

Out of the back of the kids section a little girl with long brown hair and freckles dotting her face bounces towards the stage excitedly, a smile plastered on her face.

Next to me Vi snorts and shakes her head, giving a quick laugh. "Graham, of course she's happy about being reaped." I raise an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. "Snobby little bitch at the academy, family is loaded. Good for her for being fine with it though I guess." She chuckles and shakes her head again.

"Thought that name sounded familiar." I reply, watching as the girl skips up the stage.

She gives a giggle as she walks up to the escort, who is beaming back at her. "Why you sure seem happy, good to see that District two spirit in action!"

She shrugs, her huge grin still firmly in place. "Of course I'm happy, now I get to go to the Hunger Games and become a victor!" Vi cracks up again, though thankfully nobody seems to notice due to the loud mumbling going on in the square.

The escort laughs and ruffles her hair. "I'm sure you will! But first it is time to to see who will be joining Fiona here in the games!"

Taking her time, she slowly walks over to the other bowl, plucking a name off of the top. She takes her spot back at the podium and unfolds it as she looks at the audience with a smile wide on her face. "And the tribute for the 12-18 year old age group is Alerio Weissman!"

My eyes widen with shock and next to me Vi's laughter quickly dies. I stand still for a moment, waiting for the normal rush of volunteers to ripple through the air, but instead all that I'm met with is dead silence. A few rows behind me I hear a cough, and I shake my head, still not believing what's going on. I glance over to my right to Vi, who has her eyebrow raised at me. She's wondering if I want her to volunteer for me. I have the sudden urge to quickly nod and get out of this, but stop myself before I can.

What if being reaped is what's for the best? I want to be a peacekeeper, somebody who defends Panem, protecting those who can't be protected. If I can't protect just myself and a single kid from a few teenagers without having to beg my friend for help, how am I supposed to protect anybody?

My hands still shaking, I slowly shake my head, and Vi drops her eyebrow, instead trading it for a smirk and a light pat on the back as I calmly move past her and towards the stage. I clench my fists into tight balls, forcing the shaking to stop, and bring my head up to meet the crowd in front of me. I'm a peacekeeper, putting my life on the line is what I was born to do. This is my test to find if I can handle it, and I'll be damned if I let myself fail it.

Letting my hands fail back strait, resorting to my training, I march up onto the stage, looking dead ahead as I take my place. The escort looks confused, as if she's still waiting for somebody to volunteer. In the crowd I can hear the bystanders yelling for somebody to man up, but still nothing happens.

In the crowd I find Vi again, and with the smirk still on her face, she gives me a wink, and I return it, a smile creeping onto my lips that I quickly get rid of. I look back over to my partner, who now looks slightly annoyed as her eyes sweeps through the crowd, and let out a deep breathe. This is really it, I'm actually going in. And as the escort leads us off the stage and towards the justice building, I promise myself something: No matter what happens, I'm coming out.

* * *

 _~I'm a soldier, these shoulders hold up so much, they won't budge,_

 _I'll never fall or fold up,_

 _I'm a soldier_

 _even if my collar bones crush or crumble,_

 _I will never slip or stumble,_

 _I'm a soldier~_


	5. Survival

**A/N: Hey everyone, reapings number two here, sorry this is super late, I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again. I just moved and life has been pretty hectic, but hopefully things will calm down soon and updates will start coming in weekly instead of bi-weekly. So anyways couple things I wanted to say, first off: I need tons more kid tributes, I've gotten plenty of 12-18 year olds, but I need more 5-11 year olds to continue writing, so please send those in! Second thing is a quick question, I'm thinking of maybe doing some POV's for the 5-11 year olds. So do you guys think I should? And if I do, should I either: give every kid one POV and that's it, give them equal time as 12-18 year olds, or give all the 12-18 year olds a chapter before the end of pre-games, then have a poll asking what your favorite couple of 5-11 year olds are and give them POV's. Please let me know through either review, PM, or even just my poll on my profile! Thanks to Jul312 for Marina, hope you all enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Marina Rivera, 17, District 4**

I tap my foot anxiously, glancing around the busy town square bustling with people all chatting away, saying goodbye to their family, and getting checked in to the reapings. I take a quick look at my watch, which confirms that I'm here on time, exactly fifteen minutes before the reapings start, in front of the butchers store. Zander should have been here by now, though I shouldn't really be all that surprised at the 'golden boy' arriving late for his last year he can volunteer.

Another five minutes pass before Zander finally shows up, grinning from ear to ear as he jogs up to me. "Hey, sorry I'm late." He says quickly, which I raise an eyebrow to. He rolls his eyes and glances over his shoulder. "Ya, I know, I'm a horrible person, was just a tad bit busy with trying to explain to the trainers why I'm not volunteering, which they were, for the record, very mad about."

I kick off of the wall I was leaning against and quickly walk over to the line to get checked in, Zander right behind me. "So," I call out behind my shoulder, "you've decided to not volunteer for sure then?" I try my best to keep the disappointment out of my voice, I know it's a touchy subject for him and the last thing I want is a long speech about his decision.

"I've been decided for a while, which you very well know." He replies quickly.

I shrug my shoulders. "Just making small talk."

He snorts and lets out a quick laugh. "Okay, so somethings definitely wrong with you today, so what is it? I hope you're not thinking about volunteering."

"And why would you hope that?"

"You know how I feel about the games, it's just not something that's a smart choice Mary, and you know that. It's not that I don't believe you can win, because trust me when I say you definitely will. It's just. . . ." he pauses for a moment as the two of us move up the line. "It's above you. It's above all of us really."

"How is it above me?" I do my best to keep the incredulousness out of my voice, turning around to face him. "Being victor is the highest accomplishment that you can achieve, I've trained for it my whole life, how exactly is it below me?"

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head as I turn back around, quickly getting my finger pricked, and sit beside the peacekeeper, waiting for Zander to be done. As soon as he gets his blood tested he walks over to me and continues. "Look, think about what going into this years games will entail. There's going to be five year old's in the game that you're going to end up killing. Do you really want to do that?"

I face him and shrug. "Being victor is the greatest thing anyone in the districts to achieve to, so if I have to kill a few five year old's to do it, then so be it."

"If you think the best you can do with your life is kill a few kids then I think you're severely underestimating yourself Mary."

I glare at him for a second, but his calm demeanor doesn't crack and I let out a sigh, rolling my eyes. "Well then Zander, what should I do? Just abandon the only thing I've striven for my whole life and instead do. . . . what again?"

"It doesn't matter what exactly you do, it just matters that you do something. . . ." he opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it, shrugs, and mutters, "good."

"I would argue that what I'll be doing with my life is good." I reply.

He silently shakes his head as the two of us pull to a stop next to the 17-year-old section. He turns to me and lets out a sigh. "You're like talking to a brick wall, you know that?" Before I can respond he brings up his hand and I close my mouth. "Just do one thing for me, alright?" He waits for me to nod my head and reluctantly I do, then he continues. "Just think about it alright? You still have another year to volunteer after this, so just give yourself the time to really think about what you want to do, okay?"

"I already have thought about it, and I've decided what I want to do." I reply without hesitation.

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. "Whatever, what you do with your life is your own choice. I've decided for myself, and you'll have to too. Just. . . ." He pauses for a second and looks to the ground. "Make sure you think about what you really want Mary."

With that he turns and walks away, head still to the ground before a couple of girls all flock around him, forcing him to lift his head back up and put on a smile again. I still have no clue how he manages to act so happy all the time, maybe after the games I'll have to get him to teach me. I feel like it would be pretty useful thing to be able to do.

I turn my head back up to the stage as the escort, a young woman with long blonde hair and a long red dress that drapes down to her ankles, taps the mic once, sending everyone's attention to her.

"Welcome one and all to the reapings for the 100th annual Hunger Games!" A polite applause comes from the crowd, and the escort beams back at the audience. "Today two very lucky tributes, a child and a teenager, will get the wonderful opportunity to not only bring fame, fortune, and glory to themselves, but also pride towards their whole district. So who will the lucky pair be this year?" She pauses for a moment, allowing the information to soak in, before continuing. "First things first, let us find out who the young child will be that will have the opportunity to become the youngest ever victor and have their names cemented in Panem history!"

Taking her time, she struts over to the bowl to the right side of the stage, the clacking of heels against the ground the only sound heard in all of the district. She dips her hand into the bowl, twirling it around and taking her time before finally selecting a slip from the bottom of the bowl. After making her way back to the stage, she slowly unfolds it, and reads out to the audience in a loud, booming voice, "The first tribute is 6 year old Calaena Reynar! Come on up honey!"

A ghostly pale little girl with huge sea green eyes and long blonde hair slowly exits from the back of the town center and makes her way towards the stage, shrinking to herself as she looks around confused, tears trailing down her cheeks. She quickly turns around as shouting comes from the viewer section, a few older boys who I assume are her brothers desperately trying to fight past the peacekeepers to get to the little girl, before finally two larger men come and hold them back.

I glance over to where Zander is, and see him glancing back at me, an eyebrow raised. The message is pretty clear, 'you're really going to do this?' And for the first time suddenly I question that myself. I mean, it's not that I can't kill little kids, it's just. . . . why should I? I can always go in next year when I'm 18, heck then I'll even be more prepared. Besides, then I won't have to worry about babysitting a blubbering little 6 year old in order to survive.

Looking back up at the stage, the escort is walking over to the other bowl while Celaena is barely even holding herself up as tears rush down her face. Shaking my head, I glance down at the ground. No, Zander may not be right about the games being a bad idea, but this year isn't my year. Next year I'll go, and there won't be any hesitation about it.

"Marina Rivera!" I quickly shoot my head back up towards the stage. Around me all the kids are staring at me, seeing how I'll react. I stay frozen for another second, still not comprehending what just happened. With all my planning of volunteering, it never even occurred to me that it was possible to be reaped.

I shake my head and snap myself back into action. It doesn't matter. This may not be ideal but I'm still prepared and I'm still going to go into the games and win, regardless of how I got in there in the first place.

Not saying a word and keeping my face devoid of any emotion but pure confidence, I quickly walk up the stage, shoulders high and head facing straight ahead. I walk past the 18 year old section and don't allow myself to glance over at Zander, instead climbing the steps and getting on stage, taking my place next to Celaena.

The escort flashes a smile at me and motions for the two of us to shake hands. I stick out my hand to the little girl, who gazes back up at me, hands clutching her dress as she decides what to do. After a few seconds she brings her hand up shakily, and I quickly grab it and give her a soft handshake before turning back to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman," the escort shouts out, "your tributes for the 100th annual Hunger Games!" A roaring applause comes from the crowd, and I have to hold myself back from smirking at the display.

It's quickly over however, and a wall of Peacekeepers appear to lead us off stage and into the Justice Building to say our temporary goodbyes. Thanks to my short stature I can't see over any of the Peacekeepers all surrounding me, and as such have no clue where I'm even going, something that's mildly annoying despite its irrelevance.

The wall parts for me as I'm lead into a small room consisting solely of a velvet sofa which I take a seat on as I wait for my first visitors, who arrive almost immediately. My father and my brother Kai.

The two walk into the room, both with smiles on their faces, my father's a reassuring one, Kai's a proud one. "You know," Kai starts as the door shuts behind them, "as disappointed as I'm sure you probably are about being reaped, it's actually going to be a big advantage in the games. Will make you less of a target, and make it easier to fly under the radar if you want, or sell of a sob story about missing your chance to volunteer if you don't."

"Ya," I nod my head, "lots of things to work with."

"So which path you going to take you think?" Kai asks, bringing his hand to his chin.

"Not sure, do you know anything about the state of the career pack yet?" I ask hopefully.

He nods his head and pulls out a small tablet out of his pocket. "Head trainer at the academy borrowed this to me today, so I've been able to see all the reapings so far."

"And?"

"And so far the competition is looking pretty weak, career pack looks like the only competition. Boy from one is a volunteer and obvious career, boy from two isn't a volunteer but could easily be a career in a situation like yours, he's well built and looks like he has training."

"Anybody else of note?"

"So far? No. But there's still plenty of districts left so who knows."

I think to myself for a second, before turning back to Kai. "Well, I think under the radar is the best idea here. Maybe I can ally with the careers if they seem useful, but I'll just have to figure that out myself."

He nods his head, and for the first time my father speaks up. "Well," he says, chuckling, "it looks like you two have this all figured out huh?"

Kai nods in return, and I turn to him. "Of course we do, I'm more ready then everybody else in the arena combined, I'll be back in just a few weeks dad, I promise."

He gives a weary smile. "You know what I say about promises, never make one that you can't be sure you'll keep. . . . normally I would say that but from what I've gotten to know about you and your brother, I don't think it's needed."

Kai smiles to him. "Ya, you got this in the bag Rivera, as long as you don't let all the praise get to your head. The best tribute only loses when they think that they can't, never underestimate your opposition."

I nod. "Of course not."

"Well then," Kai says, turning to dad, "I think its about time we head out, I'm sure others want to see you before you leave."

Dad nods and gives me a thumbs up. "I'll see you in a few weeks okay?"

"Of course." I reply as the two walk out the door leaving me alone in the room. It only lasts a few seconds however, before my next visitor comes in, Zander.

He doesn't say anything, instead silently taking a seat next to me. He gazes out ahead of him into nothingness while I quietly sit next to him, waiting to see what he has to say. It's not like he can be mad at me for volunteering.

Finally he speaks up, though his gaze remains unchanged. "So, you're really going in aren't you? When I saw you while the girl was getting reaped, I saw that look on your face, I knew what it was, you weren't going to volunteer this year." I shrug and he shakes is head. "But of course fate is always cruel like that isn't it?"

"It's not like I'm not ready anyways." I reply. "I'm still going to go in and win, it'll just happen one year earlier."

"Ya," he switches his focus to the ground, "I know you will, that's not what I'm upset about."

"Then what is it?" I ask.

He finally glances over to me, and locks his eyes on mine. "Its what happens afterwards. You've seen what happens to victors, they always come back a shell of who they used to be. They drift apart from society, their family, their friends. Its like they never even really left the games."

I shake my head. "Not always, just the ones who weren't prepared, weren't ready, the ones who have regrets about what they had to do to win." I glance away from him for a second before turning back. "And none of those fit me."

"Of course not." He mutters under his breathe, leaning back in the chair and letting out a sigh. The two of us sit in silence for another few minutes before he chuckles and shakes his head and turns to me. "You know, even if you do come back the same exact person, I'm still gonna miss it, you know? And even though you sure as hell won't ever admit it, you will too."

"Miss what?"

"Miss this." He replies, motioning with his arms and giving a quick smirk. "Just sitting down and talking about stupid shit, walking around the town center, having a drink at that old Joe's Shack, just us and that old guy with the eye-patch there, talking about whatever the hell we want." He pauses for a moment, then his smile widens. " _Doing_ whatever the hell we want. All of that, you know? Just living life without giving a shit about it, and knowing nobody else gives a shit about it either." He shakes his head and laughs.

I find myself smiling too, and bring my head down. "Ya," I say softly, "I guess I'll miss all that." I stop myself from saying anything else, instead just letting the two of us sit in the blissful silence for a moment before the door is opened and Peacekeepers walk in to escort Zander out.

He sits up and lets the Peacekeeper walk him out, turning around as he reaches the door. "Hey, it may just be a few weeks, but I'm gonna miss you Marina." He says with that same silly smile still on his face.

I barely hold in my laughter, and instead just shake my head, that same stupid smile on my face too. "I'll miss you too golden boy."

* * *

 _~Cause I'm a fight 'til I die or win_

 _Biting the dust it'll just make me angrier, wait_

 _Let me remind you of what got me this far, picture me quitting_

 _Now draw a circle around it and put a line through it,_

 _It's survival of what?~_


	6. 8 Mile

**A/N: Since last time I made you wait so long, I decided to give an early release to make up for it. The tributes are starting to meet each other, which of course means cute, sad, mean, and awkward moments are soon going to be coming in grooves. I'm super motivated now to get the pre-games done really fast because I've gotten some super good ideas for the games that I can't wait to start writing, so expect weekly updates for a while! I still need one more tribute(5-11 year old from D9), so if you haven't sent anyone in yet this is your last chance! Thanks to HogwartsDreamer113 for submitting Shade, as always I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to let me know what you think of the character and of my writing!**

* * *

 **Shade Reinfield, 15, District 11**

"You're gonna knock their socks off in there, just you watch. You'll be back in just a few weeks." I look up from the ground as my friend Oliver gives me a last wave before exiting the room, which I lazily return.

I should feel a bit bad about myself for not really responding at all to him when he was just trying to show his support for me, but my body is still too shocked to react to anything that's happened since I got reaped. When my name was called everything just turned into a daze, I'm not even really sure how I got up on stage. All I remember was vaguely hearing my brother yelling for me from the crowd, but anything else, even who my partner is, is a complete mystery to me.

The sound of the old wooden door creaking open sends my eyes darting to the source, and in walks my older brother Lew, his face not revealing any emotions he might be feeling.

"Hey." I mutter halfheartedly, my gaze switched back to my feet.

"Hey." He replies, his voice somehow remaining steady. He lets out a cough, then takes a seat next to me on the wooden bench, letting his chin rest on his folded hands.

I steal a glance back up at him, and under my breathe manage to ask him where mom and dad are, to which he replies by simply shaking his head and leaning back into the seat.

I give the ground a quick kick, watching as the dust clouds in the air, before leaning back myself.

My head droops over the back of the chair, staring up at the old, moldy ceiling of the crumbling Justice building, and I can't help but laugh for a second at the sheer absurdity of what's going on right now. This is it, isn't it? I'm going into the Hunger Games. And as if that wasn't enough, no, I get to go in with a bunch of 5 year olds who I'll have to kill to get out. And of course you can't forget that I have one of those kids with me too, who I can't even remember the gender of despite shaking hands with just a few minutes ago, and I have to babysit them and keep them alive if I want to get out.

And yet despite all that, my mom won't even haul herself up out of bed and quit feeling sorry for herself to just snap out of it already and come wish me goodbye. And because of that I don't even get to say goodbye to my dad either because he has to take care of her and make sure she doesn't do anything stupid to herself. I'm gonna die in the next week and I'll never even get to say anything to them.

Lewis slaps me on the back, snapping me back into reality with a start as I jump back into a normal sitting position.

"Sorry." He shrugs. "Just trying to make sure you're alright. I can get. . . ." He trails off for a moment, shifting his eyes to the wall and coughing into his fist. "I can get that you're probably going through hell right now, and there's nothing I can say or do to make you feel better about it. I understand that sitting here and telling you all about how I know you're gonna be back in a few weeks isn't what you want to hear right now because you don't even believe it yourself knowing how you like to think." I glance over at him but he doesn't seem to pay any notice. "But you gotta hear it anyways, because you're going to come back here. This isn't a last goodbye, and you are going to see mom and dad again, I know you will. You're smart as all hell and you know how to say the right things at the right time, the Capital will eat that up and so will the other tributes, and you'll be back here in no time, alright?"

He stares me down in the eyes, his face showing no sign of that being anything more than a rhetorical question. "I-"

"No." He cuts me off, putting a hand on my shoulder. "No goodbyes, because that's not what this is." He pauses for a moment to let me take it in, and after a minute I begrudgingly nod my head in return, which seems to put him at ease. "Well," he says, glancing at the clock on the wall, "looks like my times up, I'll be seeing you in a few weeks alright?"

I avert my gaze to the ground, twiddling my thumbs while slowly and reluctantly nodding. "Ya, see ya." I muster out.

The room falls into silence for a moment and he mutters under his breathe, "ya," before turning and walking out. Suddenly the room feels much colder, and I let out a deep breathe, my knee suddenly feeling jittery, bouncing up and down. The door slams open and my eyes dart back up to see a wall of Peacekeepers filing into the room.

Exhaling one more time, I shake my head and jump to my feet, allowing myself to be lead by the Peacekeepers. This is really happening, no going back now. If I'm going to go down or not, I might as well make sure I put up a hell of a fight.

The Peacekeepers lead me for a minute before we manage to weave our way out of the Justice building, and I'm roughly shoved into the back of a white car. Dusting off my pants, I move myself back up into a sitting position, and glance over to find that I'm not alone in the car, with a Capital woman I vaguely recognize curiously scrutinizing me.

"So," she asks, her voice much more low pitched and easy to understand then I expected, almost even sounding like she could be from District 11 herself "you done having a panic attack yet or do you need any ice?"

I squint up at her, trying to tell if she's joking, but her face reveals only genuine concern, and so I warily shake my head, to which she responds with a simple shrug of the shoulders.

"Suit yourself." She responds simply, before quickly tagging on, "but if you do need anything don't hesitate to ask."

"I'll keep that in mind." I mutter.

The quiet lasts for only a second before she turns back towards me and stick out her hand to me, which I reluctantly grab. "In case you were as zoned out during the introductions as you were during the actual reaping, my name is Jantine and I'll be you and your partners escort for this year." She holds up a finger. "Who, before you ask, is currently with your mentor in the other car. We'll get some proper introductions once we all get on the train, so no need to worry about that."

I just nod my head, only really hearing half of what she said, my brain still not properly functioning yet. Hopefully I didn't trip and fall or anything and do something permanent, that would be unfortunate, not to mention pretty bad of everyone else for not telling me about it.

Finally the car pulls to a stop, and before I can open it myself the door is yanked open and I can only get a foot out the door before I'm yanked the rest of the way out and shoved forwards. I stumble for a second before managing to catch myself, and just barely manage to stop myself from glaring back at the Peacekeeper, deciding that would be against my better judgement.

My escort, whatever her name was, swiftly walks by me, and I do my best to keep pace behind her, making my way towards a metal gate with Peacekeepers stationed on either sides. After walking past, my escort turns around and motions me to follow behind, which I quickly do, doing my best to not fall too far behind.

The two of us enter into a small building that I recognize from school as the main train station of the district. It has the same dull grayness covering the whole inside as it did in the photos, though now dust and grime covers it as well.

Wasting no time, my escort power walks through the station with her head down, obviously anxious to get out of here as quickly as possible, a sentiment that I can agree with. I follow her as she walks straight ahead and stands next to a door with a large capital C on top of it, tapping her foot and glancing at her watch as she ushers me to hurry forward.

"The Capital is preparing the area for a complete overhaul with this being the last trip from this station before it temporarily closes, so if you're wondering about the unsavory scenery or the long walk I hope that explains it."

I don't respond, instead just leaning myself against the wall on the opposite side of the door, anxious to just get on the train and get all of this started already, as awful as it seems. I mean, it's not like I'm looking forward to it, it's just that if I'm going to do it, I might as well get it over with as quickly as I possibly can.

My escort glances down at her watch again, then lets out a breathe, and pushes down on her hair, giving me a reassuring smile as she pulls a key out of her pocket. "It's about time you get to see the best the Capital has to offer, don't you think?"

Again I don't say anything, instead just quietly taking my place beside her as she puts her key in the door and swings it open, quickly strutting inside. Quickly reminding myself not to act like an idiot, I cautiously step in after her.

I step in, and have to quickly take a double take, my eyes widening in awe as I glance around the room. All over the whole train, huge glass chandeliers as big as my room hang from the slick white metal that covers the whole train. Ginormous tables that stretch longer then the ones in our cafeterias at school are covered in lines of food that I can't even begin to hope to describe. Clean white chairs and sofas all lay around the floor, and I can't help but shake my head at the ridiculousness of all of it.

A voice inside my head nags at me at how stupid and wasteful it is, how it shows how greedy the Capital is, but I can't even be bothered to pay it any mind, still in awe by how amazing all of it really is.

"Welcome to your new home for the next two days." My escort proudly exclaims, her feet tapping against the ground as she walks towards the middle of the table of food, which focuses on a dog sized animal that I've never seen before with a apple lodged in it's mouth, a creamy sauce drizzled all over it.

The door opens behind us, and I glance back to see two people enter in, one an old woman that I recognize as our only living victor-and as such my mentor- Tanya Kane, and with her is a little girl who can't be older then 6- her sharing the standard look of the district with me, the dark skin, eyes, and hair almost everybody has- latching onto Tanya's leg as she looks wide eyed at the room.

My escort stands next to me and crouches over, extending her hand to the little girl, who replies by burying her face into the pants of Tanya, though Jantine seems to not mind, speaking in a sweet, high pitched voice. "Hello there, you saw me earlier but in case you don't remember me, my name is Jantine, and I'll be your escort to make to sure that you get to the games safe and sound. This," she motions over to me, which causes the girl to glance up at nervously, which I return with an awkward smile, not fully sure how to really respond to little kids. "is going to be your partner in the games, his name is Shade."

She nods her head in understanding, and Jantine stands back up, turning to me. "Shade, this is Amandine."

I nod my head to her, and she looks up at me, eyeing me over curiously.

"Well," Tanya yawns, stretching out her arms, "I haven't eaten anything all day, so I'm gonna go ahead and dig into that table over there, you guys are free to do whatever you want, including going to your rooms, which Jantine can point out for you, grabbing something to eat like me, or just wandering the halls, as long as you don't go into any restricted rooms, which will have big _restricted_ signs on them, so pretty hard to miss." She turns down to Amandine, who has unlatched herself from Tanya. "And what about you, what do you want to do?"

She stands still for a moment, twirling her fingers as she looks at the ground, and then shrugs.

Tanya smiles at her and shakes her head. "Alright, then I'll come dish you something up to eat, come on." She motions at her as she walks to the table, and I glance over at Jantine, suddenly feeling lightheaded and groggy.

"Can you show me where my room is?" I ask.

She nods her head. "Of course I can, go ahead and follow that hallway," she points to the a hall at the left end of the room, "and follow it all the way down, and take the last one on the right, and use this key to open it." She hands me a key and I nod at her, taking it and slipping it into my pocket.

I walk off to find my room, and after walking for just a few minutes reach the end, and open up the door to the room. Inside is the same white walls of the rest of the train, though instead of having it on the floor as well, its instead replaced by a red carpet. The room itself is fairly simple compared to the rest of the train, with just a freshly made bed fit for two, a small TV a bit larger and much flatter then the one at my house, and a walk in closet that probably has millions of clothes to choose from.

Not interested in that though, I instead plop down on my bed, letting out a sigh as I rest my head against the soft, feathery pillows. Next to the bed is a small wooden table with a remote on it, and I reach over and examine it. On it are various buttons with numbers and letters on them that I don't at all understand, so I set it back down on the table and go back to lying down on the bed.

Just as I begin to finally start to relax a knocking at my door jolts me back awake and I shoot up, looking over to see the little girl, Amandine, standing by the open door, a doll that looks almost like a mini scarecrow clutched in her arms over her stomach.

"What's up?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

She shifts her feet a little in response, glancing over at the hallway, then slowly drifts her way into my room, examining the room as she does.

I roll my eyes and kick my feet off the bed and into a sitting position. "You don't talk much do you?" She looks up at me confusedly, and I cough awkwardly. "You do know. . . . how to talk, right?"

She nods her head and I give a cut off laugh, shaking my head. "So, I gotta keep not only myself, but also you alive in there, huh?" I kick my feet back up onto the bed and rest my head against the pillows, forcing my eyes shut. "Great."

I hear the shuffling of feet and open my eyes again, looking over to see that Amandine is now at the edge of the bed, still eyeing me curiously. I squint at her, and she returns the favor to me. Shaking my head, I open my mouth to talk but before I can she speaks up. "My name is Dine." She says the words in barely above the whisper, and strengthens her grip on her doll as she does so.

I glance back and forth around the room, and cough into my fist. ". . . .Alright." I reply. "So ummm, so you can talk, that's. . . . nice." I scratch the back of my neck. "Nice to know. . . . Dine."

She nods her head, and I return it, the two of us standing in the awkward silence for what feels like an eternity before Dine finally turns around to leave the room. When she finally leaves, the door slowly closing behind her, I let out my breathe and shake my head, resting my head back down and allowing my eyes to finally close shut, drifting off into the much needed warm embrace of sleep.

* * *

 _~And it's cold, trying to travel this road_

 _Plus I feel like I'm almost stuck on this battling mode_

 _My defenses are so up, but one thing I don't want_

 _Is pity from no one, this city is no fun~_


	7. Arrows

**A/N: Well, I said weekly and then this happened, so sorry about that. . . . Overwatch came out and that basically took over my life the past few weeks, but I should probably(hopefully) be on track again. Bit of an information dump this chapter on all of the other tributes, as we go over the reaping recap so this is a bit longer than usual. Keep in mind while reading through that this is all speculation on Alt's part, and as such is not all 100% true, so don't read too far into things, though descriptions of appearance and what happens are all factual. If you want the whole list of the observations of the tributes then you can find that on my profile. Also another song that really doesn't have much at all to do with the tribute. . . . though I am finding a ton of perfect theme songs for tributes I'm writing way later, so yay for that? Anyways, thanks to DarkHorseBlueSky for both Alt and Lei, I hope you all enjoy the chapter! Cheers!**

* * *

 **Alt "Ace" Lovelace, 14, District 3**

"Welcome everybody to the official reapings recap, the one stop shop to get all the insider info on this years bunch of tributes."

"It's starting, hurry up and get over here!" I yell out, slamming a pad and pencil into Lei's chest and forcing him to take a seat on the sofa next to me. It seems like the Capital really has it out for me, because they gave me just about the most idiotic partner possible. You'd think getting paired with an 11 year old, the oldest age possible, would be a blessing, but the kid is just clueless.

Lei scratches his head, and picks up the pencil, eyeing the paper confusedly. "What am I supposed to do?" He asks timidly, earning an eye roll from me.

"Names, ages, genders, basic appearance, all of the super simple stuff that even a complete ignoramus like you could figure out." I reply simply, picking up a pad and pen myself. "Meanwhile, I'll analyze anything hard to see from the normal eye, like how the view their partner, how trained they are, threat level, and all of the stuff that you couldn't figure out if I broke it down frame by frame for you."

He nods his head slowly, and turns his gaze over to the television, where the District 1 reapings are playing out. On the screen you can see the escort doing some introductions, while the voices of Apollo Thompson and Jay Ricardo, the new game's announcer, give some trite commentary. After a minute of all the exposition, the escort announces the first name, 9 year old Glory Fairfax.

I glance over at Lei quick to make sure he hasn't zoned out already, which thankfully he hasn't, as he jots something down on the paper. Nobody steps up for a moment, until the camera manages to find a little girl with the normal emerald eyes, coupled with brown hair that goes down to her shoulders. The girl is wiping tears from her eyes, quickly trying to erase the evidence before quickly walking up to the stage.

 _Glory Fairfax- crier, self-conscious, wealthy, threat-level=low, training=unlikely_

Pausing for a moment, I quickly jot down her appearance as well, deciding that trusting Lei to do anything right is a poor idea.

I look back up at the screen, where the escort has already got the next slip in hand. "And the male for District 1 is-"

"I volunteer!" An older boy who announces himself as 18 year old Aurum Lark gets on stage, he isn't particularly tall, though he's extremely well built and also has the typical District 1 career trait of good looks, with the only thing differentiating him from the norm being his icy blue eyes which make him much more intimidating than he should be.

 _Aurum Lark- 18 year old male, medium height, well built, volunteer, highly trained career, threat-level=extremely high, no discernible weaknesses_

While the announcers discuss the tributes, I turn over to Lei to make sure that he's been doing his job, and sneak a peek at his paper. On it are illegible marks which could be notes, though there's no way I can tell, reaffirming my decision to write down everything myself.

Next up the District 2 reapings come up, and they immediately become more interesting than D1, with a little girl cheering when she gets picked, and then another older male who looks trained get reaped and march up to the stage without showing any emotion.

 _Fiona Graham- 7 year old female, chubby, training=likely, wants to be in games, threat level=moderate(not to be underestimated)  
_ _Alerio Weissman- 17 year old male, average height, athletic build, scars on fists, reaped, training=very likely, threat-level=very high_

Next up is my reapings, but I don't set down the paper, instead trying to figure out what other tributes will likely ascertain from the reapings about Lei and I. Lei's name is called and the screen replays his meltdown as he makes his way up to the stage, and I glare over at him, with him avoiding my stare. Because of him many will probably be looking at us as weak, which isn't entirely bad, if not for the fact that he made us look like an easy target.

Thankfully, I'm able to salvage that somewhat, with the reaping going exactly as I remember it, showing no emotion whatsoever as I calmly walk up to the stage, seeming as if I don't even care. That may be enough to dissuade anyone looking for easy pickings during the bloodbath, and if it isn't, then its only fitting that I go down because of a blubbering baby screwing me over.

 _Lei Park- 11 year old male, average looking except for braces, highly prone to meltdowns, threat-level=minimal  
_ _Alt Lovelace- 14 year old female, average height, prosthetic right hand and feet and glasses, not affected by reaping, threat-level=unknown_

I read over my breakdown quickly and shrug. While Lei certainly hurt our look, it didn't destroy it completely. My prosthetic's are a wild card, some will look at it as another weakness, though the smart ones will realize how much of an advantage it really is. The main way sword fights are won is by cutting off a limb which disables the enemy, but if someone cuts off any of my prosthetic's, it doesn't completely take me out of the fight, even if it does still handicap me.

The District 4 reapings pass much the same as D2, with the older kid looking trained and dangerous despite being reaped, though there is a bit of a scene as a few guys try and fail to fight their way to her as she makes her way up in tears.

 _Marina Rivera- 17 year old female, short but well built, athletic, reaped, training=very likely, threat-level=high  
_ _Celaena Reynar- 6 year old female, crier, average other then ghostly pale skin(in D4?), threat-level=non-existent_

In District 5 and 6 both pass with nothing of note happening during the reapings, though a few of the tributes catch my eye as being ones to keep an eye on.

 _Armand Machina- 5 year old male, average looks, no idea what's going on, threat-level=non-existent  
_ _Fox King- 15 year old male, well built, went in shock when reaped, training=possible, threat-level=medium_

 _Amara Ekall- 7 year old female, blue eyes(rare in D6?), bangs constantly obstructing view and serving as annoyance, confused about reaping threat-level=very low  
_ _Zarach Eleazar- 18 year old male, missing a front tooth, upper body disproportionately muscular, training=unlikely(legs not at all worked out), threat-level=High_

After not much happening for a while, District 7 finally comes up, providing a bit of entertainment, with the kid reacting nonchalantly to the ordeal, shrugging and giving a grin, even blowing a kiss to the camera as he walks up. In sharp contrast his much bigger, and older, partner drags himself on stage, refusing to look anyone in the eye as he stares tiredly at the ground.

 _Boaz Ash- 8 year old male, demands to be called 'Spark,' very likely ADD(or something similar), short and covered in scars(happy to escape home?), threat-level=low  
_ _Kieran Colton-18 year old male, tall and well built, tattoos on arms, tired movements(resigned to fate?) training=possible(tattoos?), threat-level=potentially high_

District 8 follows after, and right away a little girl is called up to the stage, and after some confusion in the crowd, a Peacekeeper eventually finds her and carries the confused kid up to the stage. The next name called is Noa Jacquard, who rather disturbingly walks up to the stage with her arms held up as if she's holding hands, looking back and forth as if she's trying to determine something.

"What's wrong with her?" I glance over to see Lei with his head tilted, squinting at the TV.

Shrugging, I turn back to the screen. "Definitely some sort of mental disorder, seems like the outer districts are chalk full of them, for her there's no way to really tell from just seeing her on a screen, but schizophrenia seems plausible."

"Oh. . . . okay?" Lei says quietly, scratching his head as he buries his face back into the pad as he scribbles something down. He obviously doesn't have any idea what schizophrenia is, but I'd really rather not have to go through a long explanation that he wouldn't remember anything of anyways. Being a tutor for the past few years for kids like him have made me realize that anything you tell them is always forgotten within a week, so unless they need to know it within that time you might as well forget it.

In District 9 not much of note happened, with the younger kid walking up somewhat neutrally, though the older kid ends up breaking down in tears once he gets up on stage.

 _Izaak Ackerman- 6 year old male, scrawny(underfed?), green eyes, bitten nails, threat-level=extremely low  
Otto Baxter- 16 year old male, skinny, somewhat built, crier(?), threat-level=low_

District 10 starts off somewhat normally, with a young girl being called and walking up the stage with tears streaming down her face, though the reapings for the older tributes have more action. The escort calls forward a 13 year old boy named Oake Sinclair, though almost immediately after another boy right next to him, probably his brother, volunteers for him.

Before he can began to go up the stage however, another boy, also his brother most likely, volunteers as well. The three boys all stand on the stage, arguing with each other something that can't be heard while the escort talks with the mayor for a few minutes before stepping back to the mic with an awkward smile plastered on her face.

"After much deliberation and consulting the law of the district's reapings, it has been determined that the person who is reaped must decide who he wants to take his place, or if he so chooses, he can decline the volunteers and go in himself."

The crowd remains silent as the oldest of the three glares at Oake, while the youngest one is rapidly speaking to him. After a minute of complete suspense, with even the commentators not saying a word, Oake eventually just shakes his head and with his head down goes up and takes his spot next to his partner.

 _Mabel Beech- 11 year old female, standard looks, crier, threat-level=low  
Oake Sinclair- 13 year old male, looks older, somewhat muscular, refused to let brothers volunteer for him(with thought), threat-level=medium_

District 11 and 12 go by with much less drama, with the District 11 little kid crying up on stage while the guy walks up in a daze while a man who looks like his brother yells his name, trying to get past the Peacekeepers. In District 12 a boy walks up to the stage smiling at first, though quickly changing it to a look of confusion after looking back at the crowd. The girl on the other hand doesn't even seem the least bit surprised or in shock about her death sentence, dashing up to the stage and giving the boy a hug instead of a handshake.

 _Amandine Corra- 6 year old female, dark skin, very small thin(malnourished), crier, threat-level=non-existent  
Shade Reinfield- 15 year old male, dark skin, somewhat tall, thin(malnourished), completely zoned out and in total shock(common occurrence?), threat-level=low_

 _Nova Whipp- 5 year old male, chubby(in D12?), left eye looks droopy(vision impairment?), no clue what's going on, threat-level=non-existent  
Dakota Marshall- 14 year old female, fairly short, didn't react to her own reaping, went to comfort kid(likes playing hero?), threat-level=moderate_

With the last reaping coming to a close the screen switches to a studio with a panel, and I quickly flip it off, not bothered with what the Hunger Games "experts" think about the reapings.

I flip through my papers, making sure everything is in order, and then turn to Lei, who is resting his cheek on his fist as he stares at the wall with a bored look glazed over his face. "Do you have your notes done Lei?" I ask, snapping him back into reality.

After fumbling with his notepad for a moment he nods his head, pointing at the scribbles that randomly litter his paper. I glare at him for a moment, trying to determine whether he was really paying attention, before I just sigh and shake my head. Whatever, it's not worth it, its not like he's going to be any help anyways. If anything I should be teaching him to do more of what he was just doing, that being him doing absolutely nothing and letting me work.

Taking a last glance at his paper that he's holding up for me, I grab the remote and turn the television back on to the HG panel, and turn to Lei. "Watch this show and tell me if you hear anything important, okay?"

Letting out a deep sigh, he leans back in his chair and silently nods his head, his brow furrowing in either frustration, determination, or anger as he goes back to watching the TV.

Not particularly caring, I shrug it off and head back to the kitchen to see if I can find either of my mentors. Since District 3 is one of the few lucky districts to not only have a surviving victor, but multiple of them, both Lei and I get a separate one, with him getting Carmen Jupiter, a 60-something year old lady, while I got the much younger Dalton Faux, who at only 22 years old won the games just five years ago.

Thankfully the kitchen isn't very far from the TV room, unlike my bedroom which is on the opposite side of the train, and it only takes a minute of walking to reach it. The kitchen is a lot less fancy then the buffet table that we first saw when we entered the train, with just a door leading to an actual kitchen where servants work on making us any food we decide to order, along with a 6 person glass dining table, which is where Dalton is currently seated, just like he told me earlier, sipping on a clear drink that I heard Carmen call a martini earlier.

"How's it going Ace." He says, setting down his drink on the table and motioning for me to take a seat in the chair next to him.

Ignoring his motion to sit next to him, I stay standing with my arms folded over my chest, and roll my eyes. "It's Alt."

He returns my eye roll in kind, earning a glare from me as he chuckles, shaking his head. "You can't seriously expect me to call you that. Besides, your last name is Love-l-ace, and it even starts with the same letter as your first name, so I think it's fair game." He responds, flashing me a grin. In return I shake my head and he continues on, picking his drink back up. "So, I assume you didn't come to just socialize and talk about your name?"

"Did you watch the reapings?"

He nods his head, finishing off the rest of his drink. "Yup, lots of really strange ones this year, though it seems like that's always the case with quarter quells, ain't it? What a strange coincidence that is."

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "Clearly it isn't a coincidence, I would assume someone who's supposed to be teaching me about the games could figure that out."

In response Dalton breaks out laughing, shaking his head as I glare at him, raising an eyebrow. "Yup, lots of interesting ones this year. Although," he says, pausing as he gulps down another glass of the liquid, "a few are definitely a bit more different in a dangerous sort of way than others."

Nodding my head, I flip open my notepad. "Noa Jacquard from D8 is probably schizophrenic, any one of the careers can be and often are sociopaths or psychopaths, Dakota Marshall from D12 seems to have a hero-complex, the pair from D7 seem to be a clash waiting to happen with Kieran Colton looking like a bit of a downer while "Spark" seems to have some form of ADD."

Dalton nods his head in approval, motioning for me to hand him the notepad. Hesitantly I do, deciding that maybe he'll be able to add something I missed after reading through it.

He flips through it, skimming past the pages for a minute before handing it back to me. "Pretty good starting outline, definitely good to know your competition, regardless of your strategy in the games, which for you is. . . ."

He trails off, motioning to me to finish. "Keep Lei and I away from any other tributes in the games, avoid any confrontation at all costs."

"Any allies?" He asks.

I shake my head.

"You seem pretty smart Ace, so tell me this." He pauses, bringing his hand up to his chin and glancing at me curiously. "How do you plan to win?"

I think for a moment, but before I can even begin to respond he breaks in. "You're not going to, that's how. Sure if you just avoid everyone else and go loner style then you'll make it far, but to win the games you're going to have to kill somebody eventually, either directly or indirectly, especially after the fiasco two years ago which the Gamemakers are, by the way, still a tad bit upset about."

"So what do you suggest then?" I ask, twirling my pen in between my fingers.

Flashing me a smile, he leans forward in his chair. "Why I'm glad you ask, most tributes tend to usually storm off to their rooms by this point in the conversation."

"That wouldn't be a smart thing to do." I reply.

"No, it isn't." He picks up an olive out of the bottom of his glass and pops it in his mouth, giving me a smirk. "So, back on track, if you want to win, there are three paths to take, and multiple sub paths on top of that one that we can talk about later. But first things first, you got to get on one of those three tracks to victory right away, or it isn't going to happen."

I flip my pad open to a new page and nod to him, earning another smile from him. "The first one, and by far the most common, is the career path, basically become a menace and slaughter everybody so that no one can stand up to you." He eyes me over for a second and shakes his head. "Even without Lei as a handicap, probably not for you. The second path is what I call the District 4 path, it's where you use charisma, charm, sexual appeal, etcetera, to win over the Capital so you get flooded with sponsor gifts, and get it to the point where the Capital wants you to win, which despite what they like to admit, definitely does increase your odds of winning exponentially. After all, nobody wants a boring victor, right?"

"I'm willing to bet you don't think that's for me."

"Do you?" He responds with a chuckle. My lack of reply seems to give him enough of an answer, and he continues. "So anyways, obviously those two are not going to be the path for you, which is perfectly fine, because that leaves the last, and my personal favorite path, the District 3 path. Use your smarts to win the games, but not in the way that people usually think. Because while sometimes someone with smarts can win like Betee did, using technology, usually that isn't an option given by the Capital, because that's boring. They want to see tributes actually kill each other, not do it by proxy. Unless that is, they use another form of intelligence, manipulation."

Dalton pauses for a moment, catching his breathe and allowing me to catch up with my notes while he downs another drink. "Manipulation isn't used very often not because it's some impossible thing to pull off, or because it seems immoral, but rather because it sounds a hell of a lot harder then it actually is. People think it takes some sort of crazy good level of reading emotions, when all it really takes is two things: the ability to throw away any morals you feel and be able to care about yourself above all else, something frighteningly easy to do in the games, coupled with a very basic ability to read other peoples flaws and insecurities, something you seem like you probably have down decently. And even if you don't, so many kids in these games especially will be so desperate for some semblance of friendship in the arena that if you're careful who you choose as allies and have half-decent acting abilities it really is a cake walk."

"So you think I should try to manipulate, how do I go about that exactly?"

He shrugs. "First things first, start thinking about which tributes are possible to manipulate. Stay away from ones that are smart, wary, or overly dangerous. Once you figure that out start testing the waters with how the tributes are responding to everything during training, find the ones that seem especially impacted by it, form an alliance with them, I'd suggest pairing with just one group, though you could pull off two, and from then on its all up to you, really. For the most part its just going to be your judgement, what you notice when you start interacting with them in the Capital, so there's only so much I can really tell you."

Nodding my head, I put my pen back into my pocket and close the notepad. "I think I got this figured out, thanks for all the help."

Dalton tersely nods his head in return. "It's getting late, you better head off to your room, you remember where it is?"

"Yes."

"Alright, get some sleep then, because tomorrow," he chugs one last drink, pounding it down on the ground as he finishes, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, "is where things really get started."

* * *

 _~Just escape, just escape_

 _Ricochets a_ _nd eclipses faith_

 _Living in a city w_ _ith a grey umbrella over your shoulders_

 _And you're becoming suffocated by the weight_

 _Can't hit those breaks~_


	8. Growing Up

**A/N: So ya, this is wayyy overdue. Short story short, I got a job, went camping, and had some writers block that put this off for a while. I'm changing a few things to make sure that this won't happen again, with the one that you guys are going to be noticing being that I'm going to be more strict on scheduling, releasing every Friday/Saturday. I have the next two chapters done right now, but I'm going to be saving chapters when I get done with them so I can get consistent updates out. Hopefully this didn't push any of you guys away from this story, I'll be doing my best to make sure this doesn't happen again. Anyways thanks to Alexandria160 for Dakota, and AztecPrincess15 for Nova, the song is yet again not really at all related to character. . . . I'm sure I'll get a good one eventually. Hope everybody enjoys and I'll see you all next week!**

* * *

 **Dakota Marshall, 14, District 12**

"No. Way. You have your own dog?" I stare at the little boy in front of me incredulously, mock disbelief spread on my face.

In return Nova furiously nods his head, barely able to contain his excitement. "He's a big, black dog. He loves to sleep and his name is Abu."

"Abu? That's a nice name."

"I got to choose it!" He states proudly, lifting his head up in the air.

Letting out a giggle, I shake my head. "You chose well, that's pretty impressive of a five year old to come up with a name all by himself, how long ago did you get him?"

He shrugs and grins sheepishly. "We got him a year ago, my mom says that he chose us because he knew we would be nice to him."

"Well I'm sure you have been."

A door slams open and shut, and I quickly jump up, eyes dancing around to find where it came from. It doesn't take me long to find the source, with our mentor, a young woman in her late 20's with light brown hair that sits on her shoulders and the typical seam grey eyes, who I haven't so much as heard speak yet, entering into the living room where Nova and I had set camp and just talked for the past few hours since our mentor and escort disappeared right away.

It was a bit awkward at first, with me still being in a bit of shock at what had just happened, and not knowing who Nova was and what we were even supposed to be doing, but it only took a few minutes for him to warm up to me and from there it was a just a floodgate of every little detail of his life being unfolded to me.

"What do you want?" I ask bluntly to the woman, crossing my arms over my chest in defense.

In response my mentor rises an eyebrow at me, then after a moment, shakes her head. "Please, don't tell me you're going to be one of those tributes."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" My eyes form into a glare almost automatically, not bothering to try to keep my annoyance out of my voice.

She lets out a sigh, plopping down in a chair opposite of the sofa Nova and I have been sitting in. "Damn Rose was right. Thanks a lot kid, now I've lost the past four years in a row."

I eye her curiously, trying to figure out if she's just messing with me. "What are you even talking about, and where have you been the past few hours, aren't you supposed to be teaching us, you know, how to survive and all that."

"I apologize for being late, I was busy doing some very important stuff to help keep you alive that you wouldn't understand, nor do you really want to. As for your escort Rose, her job isn't to teach you, or entertain you, but merely to ensure you arrive to the Capital without getting a broken hand, District 12 has a. . . . bad reputation when it comes to that." She holds up her right hand, which has a light scar running across the back of her wrist.

She pauses for a second, flashing a smile and winking, earning a giggle from Nova and an awkward shuffle from myself. "My name is Tristan Bay by the way, I'm 27 years old, won the 89th Hunger Games, and obviously, am your guys' mentor. How about you two, tell me a bit about yourselves."

My gaze shifts over to the ceiling, still unsure whether to trust this woman. Nova, however, seems to have no problem at all.

"My name is Nova." He states proudly. "I'm five years old and I live with my mom and dad at home in District 12."

Tristan lets out a giggle, and slowly extends her hand to Nova. "Good to meet you Nova, I'll be doing my best to make sure you get back home to your parents as soon as possible, alright?"

He nods, his smile now gone, then glances up at Tristan and mutters out, "how much longer 'till I go home?"

"I don't know, but I prom-" She cuts herself off, her face going blank, staring into nothingness for a second before shaking her head and returning the smile to her face. "I'll do my best to make sure it won't be long okay?"

This seems to appease Nova, who nods his head and relaxes back into the sofa.

"And you?" She asks, eyebrow raised at me.

I shrink back into the couch, really not wanting to talk to this woman. She acts all nice and as if she wants to help us, but something about her just feels off. Almost like everything she's saying is planned, calculated. That she's just saying things to make us feel better even if she doesn't believe them. Her refusing to promise to Nova only adds to that growing suspicion.

After all, she's a mentor for District 12, where being a tribute is a death sentence. She probably thinks we're going to die no matter what and is only trying to make us feel better by saying otherwise.

"Her name is Dakota." Nova's voice snaps me back into focus, Nova pointing to me with that same proud smile still in place. "She's 14, and lives with her mom and dad in the. . . ." He trails off, nose scrunching as he tries to remember the next word.

"Town." I finish the sentence.

Nova's eyes light up. "Town! Ya, she lives in the town, and I live in the seam!"

"Really?" Tristan asks, seemingly genuinely surprised. "I wouldn't of guessed you were from the town Dakota, I mean, you're not wearing tatters for clothes so that's something, But at the same time I've never seen someone with Hazel eyes in the town, or well, District 12 at all" She pauses for a second. "Are any of your parents or grandparents peacekeepers by any chance?"

"I don't know." I reply, not totally sure why she's so obsessed with my looks and where I live.

She nods. "Might wanna ask your parents about that once you get out, I'd be willing to bet you on it."

Not giving me time to respond, Tristan turns over to Nova. "So you live in the seam, huh?"

Nova's head bobs enthusiastically. "Ya! That's what my mom and dad say, they say that they didn't like the town, and that the town didn't like them, so they left."

"Huh." Tristan responds, her gaze dropping as her smile dissipates slightly for a second, before she lifts her head back up, smile right back in place. "I'd love to talk to them about that sometime."

"Does it really matter?" I ask, somewhat annoyed at all this pointless talk. "You're supposed to be teaching us things on how to survive the games, not sit here and gossip about our parents. There'll be plenty of time for all that once you get us home."

Tristan doesn't seem at all taken back by my words, instead rolling her eyes, her smile still firmly in place. "I would give you advice on the games if I knew any, but sadly I don't really have any. And before you ask," she says, holding up her hand. "the reason behind that is not because I don't care about you guys and want you to lose, or I've given up all hope and any of my kids having a chance of ever winning."

She pauses for a second, waiting for me to interrupt, but I hold my tongue, my words stolen from me before I could speak them, and she shakes her head. "Anyways, I know you're probably too young to remember my games, but if you did see them, you'd understand what I'm talking about. I'm not exactly what you would call an experienced killer."

I stare her down, not believing a word of what she's saying. "Nobody wins the games by accident, you became victor for a reason."

Tristan snorts, shaking her head. "Please don't tell me you actually buy into all that pessimistic crap that everybody in the outer districts, including the victors somehow, actually believe in?"

"To win the games you killed people, there's nothing accidental about that. You know how to win, that's how you became victor, so why can't you just tell us what we have to do?"

A dead silence fills the air, and Tristan's face goes blank, refusing to face me as her gaze switches to the wall behind me. "Ya, I killed people in the games to win, of course I did. You will too, otherwise you'll die before you get the chance, and most likely while trying to." Tristan stops for a second, then shakes her head. "I know what all this is about Dakota, but you have to realize there's nothing I can do to prepare you for the games. I know you want me to just tell you every single little thing you need to do, and if you follow every little step to a tee then you'll win the games and come back, but that just isn't how it works. Weird things happens, exceptions have to be made, adaptation is a must. In the end if you really want some advice on how to win the games, here it is: be lucky. That's all there is to it really. Skill, drive, and luck are all that matters in the games. You have the drive, the skill is something that I don't have and can't help you with, but if you have the drive it usually comes in time. All that you need is the luck, and that's something nobody can help you with."

I sit in silence for a minute, trying to take everything she said to me in. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to win, no matter how perfectly I do everything, I could still lose if I'm just not lucky enough. I shudder at the thought, but quickly drive it away. It doesn't matter what Tristan says. She won the games, but even she thinks she only won because she was lucky. She doesn't know anything about the games, and she certainly doesn't know anything about me.

My mentor can think whatever she wants, she can tell me anything, but that doesn't mean I have to believe in it. I'm gonna go in the games and I'm going to win them, because I want them more then anybody else in there does. I have to come back, and not even just for my mom and dad and me. I glance over to my left, where Nova is still silently sitting, seemingly not understanding anything we've been talking about, thankfully.

Putting a smile back on my lips, I reach over to Nova and tap him on the shoulder. "Hey, its getting a bit late, you wanna go to bed yet?"

Nova nods in response, letting his shoulders droop down as he does so. Probably been up way later then he should be, especially considering how important tomorrow is going to be.

Tristan seems to read my mind. "Ya, you should both be catching some sleep, tomorrow Rose and I will get started on prepping you guys for your arrival in the Capital."

"I thought you weren't going to teach us anything." I mutter, rolling my eyes.

She lets out a laugh. "Trust me, the stuff we're going to have to teach you guys tomorrow pretty much isn't going to mean anything to you guys." She gives me a wink, and I raise my eyebrow, deciding not to bother myself with trying to figure out what she means, I'll figure out tomorrow anyways.

Leading Nova under my shoulder, I begin walking towards our room. Just as we're about to exit the room a voice calls out from behind us. "Hey," Tristan's voice comes much more reserved and warm and. . . . real then before. "Have a good nights rest you two, you're gonna need some sleep for tomorrow"

"I will!" Nova calls back, probably not loud enough for her to even hear, his voice already starting to thin out as he lets out a yawn.

I turn around and find Tristan looking back at us, arms crossed and with a look on her face that reminds me of my own mom wishing me a good night. My body falters for a second, and I find myself freezing up, lost in memories of something I didn't think I could be only remembering anytime soon.

"C'mon, we gotta go to sleep." I feel a tugging on my jeans, Nova anxiously trying to motion out the door.

Shaking my head, I give him a reassuring smile and follow after, his grip staying firmly attached to me as we walk off, into whatever tomorrow will bring.

* * *

 _~And times are changing I know,  
But who am I if I'm the person  
You become, __if I'm still growing up~_


	9. Fast Lane

**A/N: Wow we actually did it. A chapter released when I said it was going to be. This chapter you guys get the first peek at one of the younger tributes, which in case I haven't said it before(not sure really) I've decided to give equal time to the older tributes, both before and during the games. Made it tough to describe things since he doesn't know what a lot of things would be called, so in case your confused about his description of stuff, that's why. Also, another chapter going by with another song that doesn't really relate, but hey, I did find a good one for Kieran once his POV happens, so I'm at least 2/24 here. Thanks to Calebbeers21 for Spark and CelticGames4 for Kieran. Shout out to all of you guys for sticking around despite the delays, hope the waits have been worth it, and hope you guys enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **Boaz (Spark) Ash, 8, District 7**

I didn't get any sleep last night. Probably not my best idea I've ever had.

At first everything seemed to just be breezing by like it was no problem. When my name was called for the reaping I just felt kind of oddly calm. Like nothing at all was out of the ordinary. The same feeling stuck by when I said goodbye to Jake, and even on the train everything was just going fine.

Heck even now I don't exactly feel panicked or scared or anything. I'm not even feeling uneasy or down at all. If anything I'm feeling the exact opposite. I give my leg a quick slap, though it doesn't do anything to stop the jittering that's been going on for the past few hours.

Shaking my head, I kick my feet up off the bed, giving up on trying to fall asleep and instead settling on finding some breakfast and just getting through today. I've done all-nighters before and the best way to deal with them is just suck it up and stay awake for the rest of the day. Then I'll crash like crazy tonight even if my whole body keeps on shaking like I'm jacked up on something.

The room I'm staying in is actually pretty similar to the one that I have at the orphanage. Just way bigger, cleaner, fancier, and with only one bed instead of twenty. Small differences. Another change from this room to the one I'm used to is also the fact that it has a closet the size of my old room, which is pretty cool I guess. Inside of it is what has to be over a hundred different pieces of clothes, most of which are all fancy shirts and pants like the ones you see the Capitol wearing on TV, which makes sense if you think about it.

After sifting through about 50 plain black dress pants and brightly colored shirts with hundreds of buttons, pockets, and zippers that I wouldn't even know what to do with, I manage to find something somewhat similar to my normal outfit, with a pair of jeans and plain black t-shirt, although there doesn't seem to be any hoodies. Guess I'll just ask Mace and Aspen about that, they'll probably be able to find me something, and if not then whatever, its just clothes.

I slip the shirt on quick, though the jeans are more of a struggle, with my pants refusing to stay up and not drop to my ankles. After what had to be a few hundred tries I give it up and just slip my old ripped jeans back on. My escort will probably throw a fit about it with her strict instructions to "burn that outfit the second you're done with it" but hey, getting me all dressed up nice is her job, not mine.

The hallways of the train are still a bit of a mystery to me, so it takes me a few minutes of wandering around the train before I manage to find the only place I remember from yesterday, the dining table.

To my surprise, they already have a full meal laid out on the table, despite nobody else being around. I shrug my shoulders and decide its not worth worrying about. As far as I can be concerned, food always being on the table whenever I want it can just be magic and nothing else.

Just before I can dig into some of the strawberries that I tried yesterday, Aspen, a somewhat older woman with the typical District 7 look of dark brown hair that's wrapped in a ponytail, tanned skin, and big light brown eyes, walks into the room, yawning with her arms stretched out.

"Good morning Boaz-"

"Spark." I cut her off automatically, popping a piece of fruit into my mouth.

Aspen rolls her eyes, taking a seat next to me. "Well then _Spark,_ how are you doing?" She squints at me, then shakes her head. "Because you don't look so good, your eyes are bloodshot and your jittery as all heck."

Giving a quick shrug of the shoulders, I leave my seat and walk over to the counter where all the main meals are, with some hundred different things I've never so much as seen before set up.

"You should really get sleep Spark, Its important for your health, Hunger Games or not." Aspen walks up next to me, quickly stabbing a round, fluffy sort of bread and dropping it on her plate, and I decide to follow suite, grabbing it quick and giving it a bite. It's not bad, way better then anything back in District 7, but not as good as the other food on the train.

"Anyways," Aspen takes her seat back at the table, "if you're not gonna go back to sleep can you at least do me a favor and wake Kieran up?"

I must do a bad job hiding my confusion at her request, because she quickly rolls her eyes and tags on, "Your district partner."

"Oh." I reply, rubbing the back of my head. "Sorry, forgot his name." Taking a quick bite from my breakfast, I plop it down on the table, earning a sigh from Aspen as I head off to go find him. I turn left at the first cross, but am called back by Aspen, and switch directions.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to find my district partner, who's name I've already managed to forgot again(I seriously do need to get some sleep), and I knock on the door, whistling as I wait for a response. After 10 seconds I knock again, and again no response, and after one more try I give up and attempt to open up the door, but find it locked.

Well that sucks, what do I do know? Scratching my head, I pace back and forth, trying to figure out a plan. I could go and find my escort, who would have a key. But that would be pretty tough considering I don't have any idea where she is, and I already had trouble finding things that I know the location of.

My mind suddenly flashes back to another time something similar was happening. At the orphanage, one of the kids always slept in way too long, so one of the older kids decided to play a prank on him by putting a bucket filled with water above the door so when he opened the door it fell on him.

I focus on trying to remember how he did it, although all I can remember is that he just placed it on top of the door like it was easy. Maybe the door has to be open? Only one way to find out, just have to find a bucket to test it out.

Before I can start to even think of where to find a bucket, the door creaks open, sending my jolting back. I slap myself on the back of my neck for being such a scaredy cat, looking up at my district partner standing in the doorway.

The first, and about only thing, that sticks out about him is that he's a lot taller, and scarier looking, then I remember him being yesterday. He's gotta be at least two feet taller then me, tattoos along both his arms, and a stubble of a beard. Overall he looks more like one of the bigger, adult lumberjacks that I've seen back home then he does a kid who should be here with me.

"Hi." Putting a grin back up on my face to make sure to be friendly, I wave up to him, having to stare almost directly up to see him.

He doesn't return the smile, although he does manage to mutter out a greeting, though his voice is so deep and quiet that I can't even understand it.

Letting out a yawn, he stretches out his arm, and I stutter backwards, again mentally hitting myself for being an idiot as I do so.

"There's breakfast ready in the dining room if you want any." Doing my best to sound confident and clear, I point down the hallway where I'm 70% sure that the dining room is.

In return he gives me what I assume is supposed to be a smile, his lip just barely moving up, his mouth staying firmly clenched shut as he mutters out a thank you which I manage to catch this time, his voice a bit more clear but still just as quiet, just barely above a whisper.

"No problem." Sticking my thumbs in my pockets and giving him a quick wink to try to lighten the mood. He doesn't seem to be paying attention anymore though, as he stares right through me, giving the same look that I give whenever I'm bored out of my mind in school.

"Anyways, I'll see you later then, uh. . . ." My district partner's name slips from me again, and I scratch the back of my neck, looking up at him expectedly. By the time I even look up he's already gone though, shuffling off down the hall.

My hand drops back down to my side, and I glance around, nodding my head. "Yup." I mutter. "See you later Spark, it was nice talking to ya."

Spinning around, I head down the opposite hallway, deciding to see what I can find, though before I can head off I notice my district partner's door is open, and I go to close it, but hesitate and stop at the last second.

Looking both ways down the hallway, I glance in to his room, and then before I can stop myself, walk in fully, closing the door behind me as I take a look around. I mean, its not like its his room so its not really an invasion of privacy or anything. He can look in my room if he wants, not like I would care, would probably find the same exact thing as he has in here, because I don't see any differences.

The room has the same closet, window, TV on the wall, even the same bed. The only difference I can find in the rooms is a small photo sitting on the table next to his bed. After a moments hesitation, my curiosity gets the best of me and I take a look at it.

I'm a bit let down, with the photo just being of what looks like my district partner with a guy and girl his age, maybe his girlfriend and best friend or something. Pocketing the photo quick, I head out the room, making sure to close the door behind me as I find my way back to the breakfast table.

I seem to be getting a lot better at all of this navigation stuff because I don't even make any wrong turns, this time easily finding my way back to the dining room. Everyone seems to have gotten up, with Aspen, Mace, and my district partner all at the table eating.

"Whats up." Waving to everyone on the table, I pull out the picture from my pocket and drop it in front of my district partner, and take a seat next to him. "Found that in your room by the way."

"Spark!" Aspen glares me down, giving me the same look my teachers do whenever I do anything wrong.

"What? I just found his picture and gave it back to him."

Aspen lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes. "You're old enough to know not to invade other peoples privacy Spark." Turning away from me, she shakes her head. "I'm sorry Kieran, might want to double check your door's locks from now on."

Shrugging, I turn back to my district partner, who I notice slipping the picture into his pocket, that same neutral expression still on his face.

"So anyways, who are those people in the picture, is it your girlfriend?"

"Spark!"

"It's okay." Kieran mumbles, shifting in his seat. "She's my. . . . friend's girlfriend." He manages to choke out, visibly cringing when he says friend.

"What about your friend, who's he?"

"You know Spark" Aspen says tiredly, shaking her head. "Since you seem so keen to learn about your district partner, why don't you tell him about yourself first."

"Alright." I shrug, kicking my feet up on the table, though a particularly scary looking glare from Aspen sends them back to the ground. "Not much to say really. My parents died three years ago, don't really remember them at all. I live in the orphanage at the edge of the town, its off seventh road or something like that." I pause for a second, then add in, "really nice place by the way, don't know if I would go as far as to recommend it but. . . ."

Kieran eyes me curiously, giving the first glimpse of just about any emotion from him ever. "That orphanage, is it the big gloomy building with broken windows all across the bottom two floors and only half a roof on the top one?"

"The very same, surprised you've seen it, do you live in the town?"

He shakes his head. "No, I've just. . . . visited there a few times." Kieran shifts in his seat again, eyes shifting back to the floor.

My eyes glance at the tattoos running along his arms and something in my mind clicks, a memory of a place I ran across while exploring the town, but before I can fully connect the dots my train of thoughts is interrupted by Mace.

"Well would you look at that." The old man says, glancing out the window. "You two ever seen the Capital before?"

"Nope, aside from the stuff they make us watch during the Hunger Games." I reply, walking over to the window to take a look.

He shakes his head. "Either way, the photos can't do it justice. Regardless of what you think of the Capital they sure know how to make a city."

Standing on my tip toes, I peer over the window, mind set on not being impressed at all by the Capital, but can't help but widen my eyes and gape the second I see it. Right in front of us is a huge wall built on the water, with water overflowing and pouring down the cliff. Past the wall there's a huge lake, with crystal clear water that looks strait out of a story book, nothing like the murky ponds back home. The city itself is a blur of silver and white buildings all taller then even the highest reaching trees back in District 7, and beyond those are the slightly more familiar mountains, capped with snow and still managing to look much more impressive then anything back home.

"Hey Mace," I tug on his jeans to grab his attention. "What's that?" Still gazing out the window, I point towards a circular building in the middle of the lake away from everything else.

"That's the Gamemakers building, where they do all their work during the games." Mace turns around, and ushers the others at the table to us. "Come here Kieran, it's a site you'll wanna see."

There's a slight shuffling of feet, and Mace lets out a sigh, turning back towards the window. "That's alright, suit yourself."

The view suddenly changes to pitch black, and I jump backwards, earning a laugh from Mace.

"Don't worry, just entering into a tunnel, we'll be off the train and into the Capital in just a few moments. Once we get there you get to go to meet your stylists, who are most likely not going to change much for you Spark, though Kieran on the other hand," Mace turns around, giving a shrug to him, "you might be with them for a while. But either way no matter what they do just let them do their work, they know what they're doing, and are just trying to help you."

"Also," Aspen chips in, "this year is a quell which means the stylists are going to go all out and give their best outfits a go. Which means you two get the added bonus of not being a tree. . . . probably."

"Wouldn't count on it." Mace mutters, chuckling.

The train comes to a sudden stop, sending me lurching forward a step, though nobody else seems to be affected by it.

"Alright," Aspen claps her hands, jumping to her feet. "Spark, you're coming with me, you ready to go?"

I nod my head, kicking off away from the window. "Course I am."

"Alright then," she says, giving me a warm smile, which I can't help find myself returning. "Let's win this thing."

* * *

 _~Living life in the fast lane  
_

 _Moving at the speed of life and I can't slow down_

 _Only got a gallon in the gas tank_

 _But I'm almost at the finish line_

 _So I can't stop now~_


	10. Be Calm

**A/N: Damn I'm getting good at this aren't I? Finally found a song that makes sense, got my chapter done on time again, things are looking up. Bit of swearing this chapter, just going to put it out there. I try to keep it to a minimum but I mean... teenagers in a deathmatch, its gonna happen. Anyways, thanks to everybody for sticking around and reviewing, it really makes my day to see people are enjoying my story, and makes it so much easier to write. On top of that of course thank you Tom137 for Zarach and Medicine cat of the Opera for Amara, and as always, hope everybody enjoys!**

 **Zarach Eleazar, 18, District 6**

Everything is fucked.

This was supposed to be my last year that I could have been in the games. The year where I turn into an adult, where I finally can move on from all the messed up crap in my childhood and start fresh.

Instead I'm sitting here on a train, ready to go get slaughtered for some random reason, and on top of that there's a stupid little girl sitting across from me with a dumb grin on her face.

Clenching my fists, I close my eyes, doing my best to calm myself down. Just relax, don't start connecting any dots, don't start feeling sad about how much of a horrible person you are, or how shitty your life is, just. . . . be calm.

"Hi." The voice squeaks out from my district partner, much to my surprise, with her nervously avoiding me the whole train ride before now.

My eyes shoot open and I shoot a sharp glare at her in hopes that she just goes back to before and stays away from me. I'm not going over all of this attachment bull crap, not again. We're tethered together in the games, but aside from that I don't have to get close to her whatsoever, and I'm going to make sure to keep it that way.

Surprisingly enough, she seems to get the message, shutting her mouth and bringing her legs up to her chest and burying her head. I let out a sigh and rest my head on my hand, eyes still glued out the window, patiently waiting to get off of this train already.

"Alright you two, sorry I'm late." The gruff voice of our 40 year old mentor Atlas calls out from the doorway almost on queue.

"What took so long, you left an hour ago." I grumpily ask, slowly making my way up onto my feet.

Atlas shrugs, pulling the door closed behind him. "Usually they slow down the trains that are closer to the Capital so everyone arrives at the same time, but District 12 was still a bit late, so everybody had to wait for them."

Turning his attention over to Amara, Atlas gives a warm smile. "Hey there Am, are you ready to go?"

Slowly bringing her head up, her bright blue eyes glancing over her knees, Amara squeaks out an 'okay.'

"Alright then." Atlas claps his hands together, giving a grin. "Let's go you two, we just have a 20 second walk to get to your stylists, there's going to be some people there with cameras outside asking questions, just ignore them and keep on walking, okay?"

This whole thing suddenly seems much more sketchy, and I shuffle my feet awkwardly, trying not to show any nervousness about being questioned by the Capital. "I thought that the Capital didn't see the tributes until the chariot rides.

"New thing they just added this year, it's super stupid I know, but just ignore them and it won't matter okay?"

Nodding my head, I turn to Amara, who quickly goes back to hiding behind her legs. I do my best to not roll my eyes at her irrational fear of me, instead ignoring it completely and heading towards the door. Before I can open it however, Atlas places a hand on my shoulder and nudges me backwards, not allowing me to leave.

"Amara, we're going now, alright?" This time he gets no response, and he lets out a sigh, muttering something under his breathe.

"Hey Zarach can you go ahead and go by yourself while I figure this out. You just go straight ahead through the roped-in area and into the building, your stylist will be right there waiting for you. Remember what I told you before, just listen to everything they say, don't argue with them. They know what they're doing, so just let them do their work."

"No promises." I mutter under my breathe, though whether or not Atlas understands, he doesn't seem to care, instead pulling open the door and ushering me through.

Not wasting any time I hop out of the train, and am Immediately blinded by a flashing of flights. I quickly send my arms up to shield my eyes from the bright flashes, and my gaze shoots back as the door slams behind me.

After a moment I regain my composure, and let out a deep breathe, glancing around to take in my surroundings. All around me odd looking people with cameras and microphones are shouting questions at me, flashes of lights coming from their cameras, with Peacekeepers ensuring they stay behind the ropes on either side of me. Up ahead in under a hundred feet is a long, one story building that stretches out for a long time in both directions.

Alright Zarach, just go straight through, don't pay them any attention. Its just some dumb Capitalites, who gives a fuck about them, just ignore them.

Clenching my fists, I do my best to put a calm look on my face as I hastily walk towards the building. Some of the questions somehow manage to pierce through the incomprehensible roar, with a reporter to my left screaming out what I think of the Capital, a question that I have to do my best to ignore, instead strengthening the grip of my fists.

Behind me somebody asks what my family was like, and I stop bothering to look calm, instead sending a hostile glare as possible, hoping that it will maybe get them to shut the hell up.

Instead it seems to get the opposite reaction, with a million more questions being asked about my family. Was I poor, do I have a family, what they were like. . . .

Right as I feel like I'm not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer, my fingernails already so dug into my palms that blood is trickling out of clenched fists, the door ahead of me opens, and I quickly dash in, the noise cutting off as the door closes.

Everything falls into a dead silence, and I allow myself to glance back up and un-clench my fists, letting out a deep breathe in the hopes to calm myself back down. That was nothing, it was just some stupid people asking some stupid questions, what did you expect from the Capital?

The real thing to be wondering about is how the hell the door managed to open and close, because right now I'm just standing in a room by myself. All around me are dreary grey walls with only a single light hanging above, nothing at all in the room except for the door dead ahead a few feet.

My first thought is that I should open that door to find where I'm supposed to go, but on the other hand if it's going to be anything like out there, I'd rather just cool off a few minutes in the calming silence.

Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes and let out a sigh. All of those Capital reporters can all go to hell for asking me those questions. They think that I'm going to tell them about it? I don't even want to talk to myself about it, much less some freaks who are the reason why everything is so fucked in the first place.

If it weren't for them I would still be at home right now. I'd be sitting in my apartment having some breakfast, hanging out with my dog Kallie before I go to work at the airfield. Last night I would have been celebrating finally becoming an adult and being on my own. Soon my boss would have recognized that I'm not a kid anymore and realize with how hard I'm working I deserve a promotion. Before long everything from my past life would disappear. I'd start a new life that would help me forget everything I did wrong before.

And I wouldn't ever sit up at night hating myself for leaving Lorenna with our jackass parents, for not protecting her like I always had tried to before. How now she's probably still in that home, in a worse place then she even was before, and hating me because of it. All because of me. All because I was too selfish to protect the one person on this rotten earth that depended on me. The only one that actually cared about me.

I betrayed her, and over those next few months on the run I betrayed myself too. Who knows what I thought a 15 year old could do on his own? Why I thought that I could start anew and just forget about everything, escape from the responsibility I had.

The door ahead of me opens up, and I shake my head, purging any of the thoughts I was letting myself have. Everything that happened is over, it doesn't matter. Glancing up, I see a young looking woman walking. She has short, bright pink hair that goes down to her neck and hangs just above her bright blue eyes. She's fairly short and thin, and is dressed in a dark blue dress that goes down to just above her knees.

"Hello there." Her voice is sweet, sounding more like a teenager then an adult. "My name is Nikki and I'll be your stylist for this year, can you tell me a bit about yourself?" She extends her arm for a handshake, a supportive smile on her face.

I hesitate for a second on whether or not to trust in her, but she seems nice enough despite being from the Capital. And plus, Atlas' advice about how to deal with the reporters was right, so maybe I should listen to him here. For now at least.

"Alright." I take her hand and give her a light handshake before pulling away. "What do you want to know?"

Nikki shrugs, motioning be to follow her through the door. "I already know your name, age, all that jazz, and I doubt you want to tell me your life story, so why don't you just tell me some things that would be useful for me. I personally am someone who believes in last minute changes to outfits based on what the tributes want, so if you have any preferences let me know."

"As long as it isn't those half-naked outfits from last year I couldn't care less."

Letting out a giggle, Nikki leads us into a brightly lit room with all sorts of clothing and dyes all in containers spread across the room, with the only clear place being a bed and chairs at the end of the room. "Don't worry about any of that. I'm new this year to being a stylist, and I can guarantee that I won't be putting you in anything that would make you uncomfortable out there."

The two of us walk over to a drawer, and she opens it up, revealing a costume propped up on the wall. "This is the outfit you'll be wearing, so go ahead and take a look and tell me what you think."

On the wall is a completely brand new pilots outfit. On the top is a pristine white helmet, with a clear visor covering up the eyes. Right below it is the dark red pilots vest complete with the Capital and District 6 insignia. Next up there's the plain black pants and boots, as well as the dark blue gloves. Everything about it looks exactly how I remember it being back home.

"I've seen a real one before where I work, and it looks exactly like it." I say, keeping my eyes stuck on the uniform. Back at the airfield I wasn't in the same area as the pilots, so I didn't see them often, but whenever I did I couldn't help but be jealous of them. Just getting into a hovercraft and getting away from the rest of the world, flying away from any of the issues you have back home.

"So what do you think of this one, any changes you want to make to it, color, wear and tear, anything you want different can be done."

"Looks just like I remember it, they never let it get dirty or torn up."

Nikki flashes a smile and pats me on the back. "That's great, if there's anything you want to change though feel free to ask. Only things I care about when I'm making an outfit for you are that it looks good, and that you feel confident in it. If you have that then nobody is going to care about anything else."

Shaking my head, I peel away from the uniform and turn back to Nikki. "Nope, it looks perfect to me."

"Great to hear, then we can go ahead and go on to the prep work. Not gonna lie, it kind of sucks. You're lucky you aren't a girl, so you won't have to have all your hair pulled out of you, but you're eyebrows could probably use some trimming, and we're going to have to give you a bit of treatment to make sure you don't grow any facial hair in the games, though that's easy." She pauses for a moment, then shrugs. "Any abnormalities we should know about, scars, bald spots, anything like that."

"I have a missing tooth, but that's it." I reply, pointing to a gap in my front teeth.

Nikki nods. "Ya, I saw that earlier. . . . Hey guys!" She yells out down a hallway. "We have a missing upper right lateral incisor, just go ahead and replace it with a plastic filling, we can get a permanent replacement after the games."

"Appreciate the confidence." I mutter half-jokingly.

Turning back to me, Nikki flashes a smile. "Hey, it's my first year, I want to start off with a splash, so its a mutually beneficial victory."

Before I can stop myself I let out a quick burst of laughter, which I quickly stifle. Nikki returns the laughter, shaking her head. "Well, it's been nice meeting you, I'm going to go ahead and turn you over to my team, who will go ahead and do all the dirty work, and in the meantime I'm going to go ahead and meet up with your district partner."

"Why isn't Sebastian doing that?" A bubbly voice comes from the doorway, with an older looking woman- at least by Capital standards- walking through, a younger guy and girl behind her, all of them with dark black hair.

Nikki turns over to them and throws her hands up in the air. "I don't know, last minute call from the Capital that I had to take over for him for the remainder of the games. That's all that I know."

"Alright, well good luck, we'll get this guy all prepped up for you, you can focus on the younger one." The same woman replies, turning over and whispering something I can't quite catch to the man behind her, sending him scattering out of the room.

"Appreciate it," Nikki says, giving a thumbs up. "I'll see you again before we set you on the chariots, it was nice meeting you Zarach."

Giving a quick smile, I nod. "Nice meeting you too."

She gives me a quick wave, and jogs out of the room, exiting through the door that her team came through.

Once she leaves, the younger of the two woman folds her arms, eyes scanning over me. "Alrighty then, you ready?"

Hesitantly I nod, and after a few seconds of silence, the man walks back into the room, a small kit in his hand. He pulls something I can't see out of it and walks up next to me, a smile on his face.

"Hey Zarach, can you take a look at this." My eyes shoot to the left to the source of the voice, and I feel something plunge into my arm. My immediate reaction is to thrash out at the source, but find myself hardly able to move, my eyes heavy as the force themselves shut.

In the background I can hear a distorted voice speaking, though its impossible to hear what. After another moment my eyes close shut, and everything around me goes dead silent, my thoughts drifting off into nothingness.

* * *

With a groan I roll on to my side, my eyes fluttering open. There's a slight aching in my mouth, and my hand slides up, where I find the gap in my teeth that I had become so accustomed to now missing. Next to the bed I'm lying on is a small table with a mirror on it, and I grab it, holding it up to confirm with my eyes that I now have a tooth there.

Surely enough, when I hold it up it looks as if I never even had a tooth missing there. On top of that change, the stubble that I had grown is gone, and my once thick eyebrows look almost normal now.

Staring into the mirror is almost surreal. I don't really look much at all different then before though, just small changes. Almost as if someone painted a picture of me with the goal of making me look more attractive then I really am. It overall just looks odd.

"Enjoying the view there?" The mirror drops onto my lap and I glance over to the other side of the room to find Nikki grinning as she leans against the wall, arms folded over her chest.

"Actually, I think I am." I reply jokingly, setting the mirror back on the table.

Nikki giggles, shaking her head as she kicks off from the wall and walks towards me. "And I'm sure the Capital will too. Which speaking of that. . . ." She glances down at a watch around her wrist. "It's time for you to get dressed and head out to the chariots. I think you're old enough to dress yourself, so just head out the door right there once you're ready and me and Amara will be waiting for you, and I'll fill you both in on everything, alright?"

In return I nod my head, and she quickly walks out of the room, leaving me alone again. It takes me just a few moments to find the drawer from earlier, and I open it up, revealing the uniform, untouched from before.

It ends up being way easier then I would of thought to put on, with the vest and pants fitting perfectly, and the boots clasping shut instead of the laces I remember seeing the pilots at the airfield taking minutes to get done, and the gloves and helmets easily slipping on comfortably.

Unable to control my curiosity, I take a glance in the mirror, and can't help but grin when I do. With the uniform in full, I wouldn't even be able to tell I'm not actually one of the pilots from work. Pushing up the visor, I take one last look and let my smile stay despite myself.

A knock comes from the door and Nikki's voice shouts through, "Hey Zarach, are you ready yet?"

"Ya," I say, more to myself then to anybody else, sliding the visor back down, a smirk still barely evident in the mirror. "I'm ready."

* * *

 _~Take it from me, I've been there a thousand times  
_ _You hate your pulse because it thinks you're still alive  
_ _And everything's wrong  
_ _It just gets so hard sometimes  
_ _Be calm~_


	11. Rabbit Run

**A/N: Ayyy, I'm back! For the seconds straight SYOT I disappeared for half a year randomly in the middle of the story, but hey, I came back, so we're good right? Anyways, after I started this I transferred to a much better high school, and have been about as busy as possible with a _lot_ of homework, applying/visiting colleges, and playing varsity soccer(#1 in state baby!). But I'm done with soccer and college stuff, so its time to get back into writing this story which I am most definitely not giving up(I have way to good of an idea for the ending of this to give it up, and that's not to mention the other 7 stories I have planned out after this one, we're in it for the (very) long haul. ****Anyways, thank you to Random1235 for Mabel, and The Queen of Asgard for Oake, hopefully you guys are still around to read your tributes, had a blast writing them(once I got around to it).**

 **PS: Quick question: do you guys want me to continue doing this format of a single POV per chapter, or do you want me to speed up the pre-games stuff a bit and start doing slightly shorter POV's for every character, and do multiple(2 or 3) per chapter? Let me know in either a PM or review!**

* * *

 **Mabel Beech, 11, District 10**

My partner is useless.

After what happened at the reapings I thought he would of been a good ally to have, with him refusing to let his brothers take his place in the games. But instead when we got on the train, while he listened to every single thing that our mentors said, everything that I told him just bounced right off as if I wasn't even there speaking to him. And if only he just stayed to himself, now just when we're about to make our grand entrance into the Capital, our first chance to wow the sponsors, he's started arguing with me over stupid things.

"Why are you being so thick-headed all the time, we need allies you dummy." I shoot an angry glare at my district partner, who rolls his eyes, leaning back against the chariot.

"No we don't, I'm sick and tired of you thinking you can just control everything, remember that you're the younger kid here Mabel." Oake turns away from me, instead switching his gaze to the chariots ahead of us.

"Please," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. "You may be older then me but you definitely aren't more mature. You're just a little kid in a big dumb body."

"Yup, and you're an even littler kid, in a tiny little body, in a room full of kids twice your size. "For a split second I see Oake glance over at the careers at the front of the chariots, who are currently all grouped up and arguing about something, before he quickly switches it back to me. "So I think you should probably work on being more nice before you make the wrong people mad at you."

"I'm not scared of the careers." I announce, standing up on my tip-toes in order to get a bit closer to being the same height as him.

Oake kicks off of the chariot and back to his feet, now towering over me as I try desperately to stretch up taller. "Well I am." He says. "And if you aren't, then your big talk about how dumb I am is looking pretty silly."

I fold my arm, dropping off my tip-toes and turning away from him. "I'm not scared of them, and I have no reason to. The three kids are all smaller and younger then me and the big kids are all dumber."

"Flawless logic," he replies, laughing.

Shooting a quick glare, I shake my head, "If you really are so scared of them, then why don't you want more allies to beat them. I'm smart enough to outsmart them, but you certainly aren't stronger then them, I mean, do you really think you can beat the boy from District 7 in a fight?"

He glances over his shoulder, then after a second switches back to me and shrugs. "If you're so smart then we won't have to fight them will we?"

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from him. "You're completely hopeless, so I'm going to go find some people that aren't."

"Have fun!" He cheers sarcastically as I walk away. Whatever, he can think whatever he wants, but I'm going to find some allies whether he likes it or not.

Walking back over to the back of the line of chariots, it only takes a few steps to run into the District 11 pair, an older boy with dark skin who's standing by the chariot awkwardly, his dark brown, almost black eyes glued to me in suspicion as I walk up, while the younger of the two, a little girl who must be not older then 6 sits on the ground cross-legged, hugging a doll as she looks around nervously at the other tributes.

"Nice outfit," the boy says nonchalantly.

"Oh ya," I say, looking down at my farmers outfit which I forgot I was even wearing, then glancing back to him to see him wearing the same exact thing, aside from an added straw hat. "You too."

Flashing a quick smile that seems to be done to be polite more then anything else, dissipating after a split second, he turns to his partner, then back to me. "So, what's up?"

Shrugging, I walk over across the chariot from him, petting one of the horses attached to the chariot. "Was wondering if you would be interested in being allies with me."

The smaller girl looks away from her doll and over to me, clutching it even tighter as she does so, looking up at me wearily.

"Depends," the boy responds, and I look back over to him to find him picking at his fingernails, glancing up at me for a moment as he speaks, "Why should I ally up with you, what are the benefits in it?"

I'm a bit taken back from his response, and have to shake my head to clear my thoughts. "Ummm. . . ."

"Look," he cuts me off, folding his arms over his chest, "I'm not going to ally up just for the sake of it, I wanna win, not make friends. But if you can show me that you and your partner can add something that will help my chances of winning, then sure, I'll ally up with you."

"Well, what do you want for us to be able to do?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, once we get into the training center we might be able to get a better read of what the arena is gonna be like. Once we're there you and your partner can go ahead and show me what you can do, and we'll see." Swallowing a lump in my throat, I glance back to see Oake yawning as his stylist speaks to him hurriedly. "No need to rush right into things." He finishes.

Nodding my head, I turn over to the girl, who is eyeing me curiously, and give her a quick smile before looking back up to Shade. "Alright," I respond, returning the confidence to my voice, "I'll see you in the training center then."

Giving a quick nod in return, he turns over to his partner and crouches to the ground, talking to her in a hushed tone. Taking that as my queue, I walk away from the pair, and begin walking towards the District 12 pair. Before I can get far, however, a gong goes off and a roaring cheer comes from seemingly nowhere.

Going back to the last words my stylist said to me before she left to go to the training center, I scamper over to my chariot, reluctantly allowing Oake to grab my hand to help me up.

A few more moments pass in dead silence, all twelve districts waiting in an awkward quiet for the chariots to begin moving.

Ahead of us the little girl from 9, dressed as a giant piece of corn that caused Oake and I to burst out laughing upon seeing it, nearly falls off the chariot as it pulls to a start, but the older boy manages to catch her in time, giving her a pat on the shoulder as they focus ahead.

Both of us stumble for a moment as our chariot begins moving, and instinctively I reach out to Oake to stabilize myself, quickly yanking my hand back as soon as I realize it.

Oake laughs. Shooting a quick glare at him I do my best to focus back on the moment, in my mind picturing that I'm alone on the chariot.

Up near the large double door entrance, a gigantic screen shows the chariots coming out, one at a time so that the Capital can see each outfit in full.

Currently on the screen is District 1, who are both dressed as soldiers, with armor and swords crusted with gems. The older boy fits the part, holding the sword high in the air, seemingly enjoying every moment of it. His partner, a girl a few years younger then me, shrinks in comparison, barely even hanging onto her sword as she nervously glances around at the crowd.

District 2 follows up, also dressed as soldiers, though instead of looking vibrant and bright like District 1, they hold a wooden shield and stone sword, both with scratches and chips on them. The boy looks almost like a statue, not even flinching as the chariot moves past, while his partner whoops and hollers, trying semi-successfully to wave at the crowd and hold her outfit up at the same time.

Next up District 3 comes out, wrapped in a silver dress and suit. The younger boy fidgets nervously, looking like he wants to jump out of the chariot, though the girl grips onto his shoulder tightly, scanning the crowd without emotion.

Next to me Oake shivers, reminding me of his presence. "Something about her. . . ." He trails off.

"Gives me the creeps." I agree, the two of us falling right back into silence.

On the screen District 5 is now up, dressed in their typical power plant works get up, with the two tributes looking much the same with the older boy, Fox I remember his name was, glaring out at the crowd while his district partner looks completely terrified.

"Ya know, as long as we smile and wave I think we've got couple of the night in the bag," Oake says, giving a chuckle.

"Just like I told you before, the rest of the districts have nothing on us, as long as we make sure neither of us becomes dead weight."

Oake rolls his eyes. "And to think, you almost managed to say something nice, who knew."

"Didn't say you were dead weight." I mutter, diverting my attention back to the chariots ahead of us, which now consists of just District 8 and 9. "Just said one of us might be."

"Whatever, we're up next, you know what to do. Try to pretend to be a farm girl as much as you can. My stylist said its best if we both look the same at least."

" _Pretend_ to look the same?" I ask, doing my best to keep my attention glued ahead of us. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Shut up," he says, punching me in the shoulder, "we're going."

On queue, the chariot kicks to a start again, heading out the double door and out into the square. I have to bring my arm up to shield my eyes for a moment, the light momentarily blinding me before I'm able to recover.

A loud roar comes out from the massive crowd all around us, and I find myself disoriented for a moment, before a quick punch from Oake snaps me back into the moment.

Above us the crowd stretches out in all directions, a faceless mob of people that seem to blend together in a blur. Attempting to blink myself out of my dazed state, I shake my head, instead turning my attention to myself.

Forming a smile I go back to my mentor's advice and wave out at the crowd, doing my best to not cringe when Oake throws an arm around me as he flashes a dazzling smile at the crowd with ease.

Seemingly just a moment after it began, we pull to a stop behind the District 9 chariot, and I glance behind us to find District 11 rolling out.

"Thought I lost you there, you were doing the thousand yard stare on me for a moment," Oake says, keeping the grin plastered on his face, giving a wink to the stands.

"I don't want to throw away sponsors so I'm gonna keep smiling but don't think that whole 'just act like a farm girl so we look the same' crap is going away."

"What are you even getting so upset about. I'm not mad at you for living in town, I mean, I would live there if I could, no need to be all ashamed of being richer then us."

"And what-" My voice is suddenly cut off as the music, and soon after the cheers, abruptly stops, leaving a perfect silence in the square. Glancing up ahead President Young walks out towards the edge of the balcony high above us. With what I assume to be the Head Gamemaker beside her, she stands silent for a moment, allowing the tension to build up in the air.

"Welcome, everyone, to the 100th annual Hunger Games!" Her voice cuts through the silence, echoing down the square, spreading her voice all throughout the city center. "Today we celebrate twenty-five years of peace in our country, and look forward to continuing down the same path for the next twenty-five." She shifts her gaze down to us, and for a moment I feel her eyeing me, and I can't help but shudder as she does, averting my eyes to the ground.

"But for now let us thank our brave representatives in front of us here for their critical role in keeping Panem's peace, and commend their sacrifices they make for it." She pauses for a moment, and I look back up to see the president warmly smiling as she takes a step back, bringing her arms in the air. "And, as always, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

Her last word barely makes it out before being met by an onslaught of applause, the chariots moving again towards the training center just ahead, the cheering cutting off as the doors slam shut behind us, the noise barely making it through to the room.

Dropping my smile, I yank Oake's arm off of my shoulder and drop down from the chariot, stumbling a bit as I fall to the ground.

"What, are you just gonna ignore me now?" Oake asks, walking over towards me.

"I will until you apologize for saying that to me." I say, folding my arms and turning away from him.

"Why are you feeling so freaking bad for yourself." Oake asks, shaking his head. "What, are you ashamed of not having to worry about starving to death?"

My face flushes red in anger and I spin around, pushing him back away from me. "You don't know anything about me!" I shout at him. "You're just a big bully who likes to push other peoples buttons, and act like your being the big kid, but your not. You're just a big, mean, bully!"

Oake opens his mouth to say something but I shove him backwards again, this time sending him into the chariot. Turning away I run towards the rooms only exit, where I see a group of adults waiting, one of which I recognize as my mentor Kyle. He eyes me curiously as I brush past him and into the elevator, slinking down against the corner, choking out a sob as I do.

Kyle slowly peeks into the room and I bury my face into my arms, hoping desperately that he just goes away.

Stupid freaking Oake and his stupid little face and his stupid little mouth and his stupid little brain. In my mind he's standing in front of me, that same cocky grin on his face, taunting me.

'You don't know what its like to starve.' Acting like he knows everything. Now in my head I see Everett's cute little face, his bright blue eye, his stomach indented in towards his body, his ribs fully shown as a light moaning comes from him, too tired to even cry anymore.

My body lurches as the elevator starts, shooting upwards. I glance up for a second to see my mentor Kyle standing next to me, eyeing me worriedly. "What happened champ? I've never seen you look so upset since I met you."

"I don't want to talk about it," I mutter.

"C'mon Mabel, talk with me."

"No," I respond, wiping the tears from my eyes, glancing out the glass window past the city, out towards the forest beyond it. Where Everett is, still traumatized from before, and now having to deal with losing me too.

"It'll make you feel better," He says.

"No," I repeat, shaking my head. "It won't."

* * *

 _I'm like a skillet bubblin', until it filters up  
_ _I'm about to kill it, I can feel it buildin' up  
_ _Blow this building up, I've been sealed enough  
_ _My cup runneth over, I done filled it up_


	12. Ready To Go

**A/N: Hey everyone, first of all just wanted to thank you guys for your support, even after the long break, means a lot to me to see all of you guys still following along. This chapter is just a quick interlude to let you guys know some of the characters better. This story _will_ be focusing on not just the games, but an overarching story line as well, so we have the beginnings of that right here. Next chapter will be out Friday still, so see you guys then, and hope you enjoy this quick interlude. Make sure to vote on the poll on my profile for who your favorite tributes have been so far!**

* * *

 **Audra Lee, 15, District 5 Mentor**

"Would you like any water m'am?" An older woman with a clipboard asks me, a red plastic cup in her hand.

"I'll be fine, thank you." She flashes me a smile before turning and walking off.

"Audra!" My head snaps to the left to see the source of the voice, and I see Apollo walking towards me with a grin plastered on his lips. "It has been too long, how are you?"

"Good," I reply, following him as he ushers me to take a seat on one of a pair of stools in front of a crew of cameramen. "About the same as last time."

"You sound a lot more tired than you were last time." He says, taking a seat on the stool and quickly whispering something into the ear of an assistant.

"It is late after all. Plus, I _have_ been watching little Armand for the past couple of days."

Apollo glances at me wearily, and ushers his assistant over. "So, how has you're life as a mentor been?"

"Well," I start, picking my words carefully. "I've been enjoy-"

"This is. . . . off the record, by the way." He cuts me off, seemingly thinking over every word meticulously. "Not a part of the interview."

"Doesn't change my answer."

"Audra," he says calmly, almost comfortingly. "If there's anything you wanna talk about, just know-"

"I'm fine," I lie.

He lets out a sigh, shuffling in his seat. "I'm still good friends with Caleb you know, and with a lot of the other victors. There's not many who know what you're going through, but they do exist."

"I'm over what happened with my games." I say defensively, pausing for a second, biting my lip. "I'm better now."

"Caleb says otherwise."

"Caleb isn't doing so well himself, I don't think he's in position to talk." I say, more harshly than I anticipated.

"Which is exactly why I'm worried when he tells me you've seemed a nervous wreck lately. Hell, back when he was still younger I was chatting with him and he told me he was 'doing alright, maybe just a bit under the weather.'

"I keep on talking with him and find out later that the reason he was 'just a bit under the weather' was that he being forced to go into Snow's 'business.'"

I involuntarily shudder at the mention, slamming my eyes shut in an attempt to stop the images from earlier to force their way into my thoughts.

There's a long pause before I hear Apollo's soft voice. "Audra, please tell me that what I'm thinking right now is wrong."

"It's wrong?" I get out meekly, refusing to look him in the eyes.

"Audra, listen to me, alright? Can you look at me?" His voice is much more hurried now, rushed but still reassuring.

I glance up at him, and see him looking down at me worriedly. Though he still has the assuring smile planted on his lips, I can see the anger in his eyes, along with something else I can't quite decode. Almost like, regret? I shake it off, refocusing on Apollo.

"Who?" He asks simply, his smile now gone, the anger in his eyes still burning vibrantly.

I drop my gaze down to the floor, kicking my feet against the base of the stool. "I can't say anything more. Even saying this much was too much."

"Audra," He says, his voice desperate. "Nobody can help you if you don't speak up. There's a reason that victor prostitution was outlawed years ago. It's absolutely despicable and that's not even just me who says that. Nobody is going to be mad at you, and you can sure as hell bet if anyone has threatened you or your family, that they won't be able to. I _promise_ you that, okay?"

I look back up to see him now shaking, his fists clenched, the anger in his eyes now joined with worry. I inhale deeply, and shut my eyes, gripping the bars of the stool in order to calm the shaking of my hands. "The Head Gamemaker."

There's a pause, and I wearily open my eyes up to see Apollo looking behind me, a surprised look on his face. "Talon Dawson?"

"Ya." I mutter. "When I was here for that victor meeting, he gave me a white envelope with a time, name, and place on it." My voice speeds up as I speak. "I told him I wouldn't do that but he told me that if I ever told anybody that my dad and brothers would be killed." I bow my head in shame. "I didn't have any choice." I look down at my hands, surprised at how quickly and easily everything just came spilling out. I always was awful at keeping secrets.

"Audra," Apollo says, "trust me when I say that will never ever happen to you again, okay?"

"You can't tell anybody." I say shakily, thinking back to my brother and my dad back home. "I can't lose my family, they're the only reason I'm still alive right now."

Apollo lets out a sigh. "I'll keep this on the down low for now, if you rush things the real people in charge never get caught, and the second all their pawns are in prison things go juts back to how they were before." He runs his hand through his hair, flowing his dark brown hair up at the front, flopping down as he lets go. "But I have a few friends I can contact that can keep your family safe. Once I just get a few things figured out we need to let people know." My body shudders at the thought, and I shut my eyes again.

"I can't."

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and peek open my eyes to find Apollo with a warm smile. "Yes you can Audra. You're a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for. Don't let them get away with this. Not again."

I bite my lip. "You promise that you can keep them safe?"

He inhales deeply and closes his eyes, wincing in pain for a moment before opening his eyes. "I promise."

Letting out a deep breathe, I fiddle with my thumbs over my lap. "Do I still have to do that interview right now?"

He shakes his head. "No, I can delay it." There's a short pause before he quickly adds in, "there's just one thing that I want to ask you though, if that's okay."

I nod my head and he continues. "How many times?"

"Four," I answer automatically, surprising even myself. "Three times in the Capital visit and once. . . ." I trail off, not finding the strength in me to say the words.

"Tonight." He finishes, that dazed, glossy look in his eyes again, he lets out a humorless laugh, massaging his temples. "I don't know how, but I just felt like I knew the second I saw you. You had that look in your eye, I recognized it, didn't place it right away though."

A silence fills the air for a moment before he speaks up again. "I Just have one more question, if you don't want to answer that's perfectly okay."

"Go ahead." I reply. "Might as well let it all out at once. My dad always sad that was the best way of dealing with things." Again I think back to my dad, this time to how he'll react when he hears everything. I shudder at the thought of him at home, finding out from some news broadcast on television.

"But you have to promise me something first," I say hurriedly. "I need to be the first to tell me dad."

"Of course, I'll make sure of it, one way or another."

"Alright, then what do you want to know?"

He lets out a deep breathe and closes his eyes for a moment. "Talon, the head Gamemaker, was he one of the. . . . names?"

An image flashes through my head and I shudder violently, my breathing speeding up as I wince in pain. My response seems to be enough of an answer for him as he lets out a curse under his breathe.

There's another pause as I calm myself down, going back to the breathing exercises I learned from the therapist after the games. "He's your friend isn't he?" I ask meekly, unsure what else to say.

"Was."

He waits a few seconds before patting me on the shoulder, flashing me a reassuring smile. "You're a tough kid, you know that?"

In return I give a half smile, glancing down at my hands. "Don't feel like it."

He opens his mouth to say something in return, but he pauses halfway through.

"Apollo!" A voice booms from behind me.

The smile drops from Apollo's face for a second before he quickly plasters it back on. "Mr. Dawson, great to see you, what's up?"

I freeze, my thoughts completely halting to a stop, even my breathing shutting down. Apollo gives me a slight smile, patting my shoulder as he walks past me.

"Urgent message from the president, she wants to speak with you in private immediately at her estate."

"Sounds lovely." He responds.

"Most definitely." I can feel Talon's eyes on my back as he pauses for a second, and I can't help the involuntary shudder that comes. "Sorry to disrupt your interview with Ms. Audra here, if you want I can keep her company while she waits 'till you get back. I'd love to hear all about her fantastic pair of tributes."

I tense up and my hands go white from squeezing on the legs of the stool. Apollo lays a hand on my shoulder and I loosen up my grip slightly, my legs still shaking, hopefully hidden by my incessant tapping of my foot.

"That's fine, I wouldn't want to keep Audra up too late, she's got a lot of work on her plate at the moment. I certainly wouldn't want to do anything to add in any stress for her."

"Stressful times for all of us indeed, I can give you a ride to the estate if you need one Apollo."

"I'll be fine," he quickly replies. "And by the way, Audra."

I turn in my seat to face Apollo while still avoiding having to look past him. "What is it?" I reply, keeping my voice mostly steady.

"I won't be able to finish up our interview tomorrow as I'm a bit busy, but I can stop by the District Five floors while your tributes are busy with their second day of training."

I nod my head in agreement and kick off the stool and onto my feet as I see Talon walking out of the room out of the corner of my eye.

"If you need to reach me for anything at all," Apollo says in a low voice near a whisper, "I don't personally have a mobile phone, and am completely locked up tomorrow, but this-" he hands me a slip of paper with a string of numbers written down, "is my daughter's number. Feel free to call her at anytime and she'll either find me or help you out herself. She's a great kid, I'm positive she'd be glad to help you out with anything you ask."

"Apollo," I whisper, a single tear rolling down my cheek for the first time tonight. "Thank you."

"No," he replies, giving me a weak smile. "thank you." He turns to walk away, and waves for me to follow. "Come on, I'll give you ride back to the training center. You've had a long night.

"It's about time you got some rest."

* * *

 _~You've got these little things_  
 _That you've been running from_  
 _You either love it or guess you don't_  
 _You're such a pretty thing_  
 _To be running from anyone_  
 _A vision with nowhere to go~_


	13. Holding On To You

**A/N: So after much deliberation I've decided to change up how I'm going to do things in regard to the pre-games. I don't wanna spoil anything about the games, but to keep it basic: the pre-games will be going by much faster, but every tribute will still be getting at the very minimum a full interview in the Capital, plus either their own POV or be featured in another tributes POV. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy, thank you a ton Dreamer for giving me Glory, she gave me a ton of motivation to start writing again, thank you for the awesome character!**

* * *

 **Glory Fairfax, 9, District 1**

A cool breeze of wind slices through the air as I step outside, sending shivers down my spine, my teeth chattering. I slink up against the door as it closes behind me, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my uncovered arms tightly around them.

Maybe putting on a coat wouldn't have been the worst idea I've ever had. After all, its not like Aurum or Lucian or even Helix would have noticed. And even if they would have, its not like they would have cared. To them I'm just a crying baby. Just an unfortunate obstacle that Aurum has to overcome to win.

"Stop it." I mutter to myself, slamming my eyes shut in an effort to turn away my focus from the games. The only reason I came up here was to get away from thinking about the games. My whole life has always been about the games one way or another, why can't I just get away from them for even one minute? Why can't they just let me go?

Why wasn't taking Concord away from me enough?

The second that thought enters my brain I immediately push it away, desperately trying to think of something, anything else but that. Why can't I just come up to the roof and look out at the city and relax? Every single one of the other twenty-three tributes here are going through the same thing as me, and none of them are up here with tears in their eyes, on the verge of a breakdown.

And even if they were, that wouldn't be an excuse. I'm a career. I'm supposed to be strong, brave, courageous. Just like Concord was. Just like Noble and Modesty still are. They had to lose their brother too, but they didn't start becoming a wimp because of it. And now because of me being so weak they're going to lose another sibling.

"Stop it." I say, this time more forcefully, wiping the water from my eyes before they turn to tears.

I force myself to slide up to a standing position, and let out a deep breathe, forcing myself to calm down. Just do what you came up here to do in the first place. Just take a break from thinking of the games, and just take a look at the city. After all, Helix said up here was the best view in the whole Capital.

Shuffling my feet I make it over to the edge of the roof, towards the railing that overlooks the city. The rail is just a tad bit shorter than I am, so I'm able to easily duck under for an unobstructed view of the streets below.

Sitting down, I attempt to dangle my feet over the edge of the building, but as I push them out they're met with a shock that sends them flying back.

I give out a quick yelp of surprise, scurrying away from the edge for a moment as I catch my breathe. After a moment I shake my head, climbing back to my feet. It's just a force field, most likely there to avoid us from accidentally falling off and dying before the games start.

Before the games start. After that of course, there's nothing there to stop it. Even if you're perfect, and One-Hundred percent deserve to win- you still might not. Just like Concord.

Again I push the name away, but this time the nagging voice stays. _You're going to die. Just like Concord did. Just like Noble and Modesty will after you. You're going to die and there's nothing you can do to stop it._

"Stop it!" This time I'm shouting, tears welling up in my eyes as I do. I don't bother holding them back this time, letting the tears stream down my face, sliding against the wall and going back to hugging my knees.

I can try to stop thinking about it as much as I want, but that doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the fact that Concord died. And if Concord couldn't win, then how am I going to? Concord was smart, brave, and courageous. Everything that I'm not.

Behind me I hear the door open, immediately snapping me out of my thoughts as I jump to my feet, quickly attempting to wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my t-shirt, to no avail.

A little kid who couldn't be older then five slowly steps through the door, squeezing himself through the tiny gap he's given himself. I let out my breathe, relieved that at the very least it isn't Lucius, or even worse: Aurum.

"Hi," The boy squeaks out, giving a tiny wave.

"Hey," I respond weakly. The kid, who I now recognize as the boy from twelve-Nova, seems to take this as an invitation, letting the door close behind him as he walks over to me. Now that I get a closer look at him, it seems unbelievable that Nova is even five years old. He's tiny even for someone his age, a bit more chubby then you would expect from someone from D12, and has dark brown hair and blue eyes, another pair of things you don't see very often from twelve.

"Why are you crying?" He asks sincerely, glancing up at me in confusion as I collapse against the wall.

"I'm not crying," I lie, wiping my eye with the palm of my hand. "I'm just thinking." I flash an unconvincing smile, which combined with my cracking voice doesn't seem to be satisfactory answer for Nova.

If he does realize I'm lying however, he decides to ignore it. "What are you thinking about?" He takes a seat next to me, his feet not even stretching half as long away as mine do.

Glancing over to the railing, then back to him, I let out a sigh. There's not really much point in lying to him. After all, he's probably not even going to understand what I'm saying anyways. What harm could it do to tell the truth?

I bite my lip, and let out a deep breathe. "I'm just thinking about the games is all. Guess I'm just. . . ." I shake my head, averting my gaze to the ground. "A bit scared I guess."

There's a long pause, before finally I hear a shuffling of feet, with Nova squeaking out, "why are you scared?"

"I don't know," I reply, trying to search for the words myself. "It's just. . . . I don't wanna die." My voice cracks again, and I'm barely able to hold more tears from flowing.

Suddenly I feel Nova's arms wrap around me and I jump for a second before Nova plants his head into my side, giving me a slight squeeze, his arms barely reaching around. I hesitate for a moment before returning the hug, lightly wrapping one of my arms around him.

He pulls off and looks up to me with bright blue eyes looking up at me hopefully. "My daddy says that being scared of something just makes it more scary, and that if you think something is scary than you should just pretend it's not there."

"Thanks," I say quietly into the ground, a slight smile creeping onto my lips despite everything as I glance back up. "You should go to bed now, you'll wanna get a lot of sleep for tomorrow."

In response he flashes me a big grin and stands up, walking back over to his own floor, leaving me alone yet again.

Once the door closes behind him I stand back up and walk over to the ledge, leaning over the railing as I glance down to the city below, the flashing lights and rows of cars rushing from place to place. The loud noises of chatter.

For just a moment I think back to Concord, but this time not to him in the games, but rather from before. From back home, to my older brother. His reassuring smile that tells you everything's going to be alright when you're hurt. His big green sparkling eyes that made you feel like you could do anything by just looking into. His silly laugh that you couldn't help but giggle to everytime you heard.

I look away from the ground and instead to the night sky, filled with utter darkness except for one single star, shining brightly directly above me. And as I look up I think back to Concord one final time, the last time I talked to him before he went to the games.

Back to me clinging to his leg, pleading with him not to leave. To him picking me up and wrapping me up in a hug, joking with me, planting a kiss on my forehead, promising to me that no matter what he'll always love me. That he knows that I'll be great. That no matter what, he'd see me again.

* * *

 _~Fight it,  
_ _Take the pain, ignite it,  
_ _Tie a noose around your mind  
_ _Loose enough to breathe fine and tie it  
_ _To a tree. Tell it, "You belong to me.  
_ _This ain't a noose, this is a leash.  
_ _And I have news for you: you must obey me."~_


	14. Fairly Local

**A/N: So this one took a bit more time because I've been working on a companion piece for this story. It's basically a unique twist on the typical 'all the games summarized' stories. It starts at the 72nd games(where this universe diverts from canon), and goes** **onward. It reads much more like a normal story and less like a history book, and lets you know some characters you see briefly(or in some cases often) in this story a bit better(also once I get past the 100th, you'll get to see some more of this stories victor-so that's something to look forward to. Anyways, it'll be out sometime this month, and won't be interrupting with this stories updates at all.**

 **Also, gonna have trivia questions every once in a while, which in addition to review count(just answering the trivia doesn't count as a review) will give you some sponsor points. They won't be freebies, but they won't be too tough either.**

 **Trivia Question(1 point): Find the reference to Catching Fire.**

* * *

 **Aurum Lark, 18, District 1**

 **Training Day 1, 8:04 A.M.**

I tap my foot impatiently, standing by the elevator with my arms folded over my chest. To my left side my mentor Lucius stands in similar fashion, although he has a golden watch that he's also incessantly checking.

"Where the hell is that damn girl?" He asks. "And why can't Helix just lug her out here already?"

I let out a sigh in response. "Would've thought an academy girl would at least be somewhat competent, but apparently I'm dead wrong about that assumption. She has managed to exceed my already incredibly low expectations."

"Tell me about it," he mutters in response. "I pulled up her record too, and I have to say it was rather impressive. That is, for a nine-year-old girl at least," he adds in as if he were merely stating the obvious. "She's got top of her class marks and high praise from her teachers-in particular for her maturity, respectfulness, and work ethic."

I snort, shaking my head. "I wish I had somebody with any of those three. Instead I'm stuck with a completely incompetent cry baby, and I doubt District Four is doing much better for themselves."

Lucius nods in agreement. "Ya, I would recommend looking into an outer district pair to join to the alliance. Six and Seven in particular look somewhat promising."

Before I can respond Helix barges through the living room door and into the small waiting room, Glory in tow directly behind him, head hung in what's either shame or fatigue. Hopefully the former for her own good.

Nothing is said as Glory and I quickly file into the elevator, already a few minutes late, not even saying goodbye to Lucius and Helix. The two of us sit in a still silence as we take the short trip down the One floor, with Glory averting her gaze from me, a hint of fear evident in the slight shake of her leg that nearly manages to slide a sly grin onto my lips. Almost.

The doors open to the training room, and immediately all eyes are on us, including the head trainer-who is glaring at us rather impatiently. Great, even Twelve managed to get their arses down here before us.

Towards the outskirts of the collection of tributes, all standing in front of the head trainer, I see the girl from Four raise an eyebrow at me, and I can feel Glory freezing up beside me.

Not about to be embarrassed because of my cowardly district partner, I give her a shove, which, judging by her reaction of stumbling forward and barely stopping herself from falling, was perhaps too strong. She glares back at me(good, about time she started showing some emotion other then crying) before straitening out her shirt, and strutting ahead of me to join the pair from Two.

The girl gives a quick chuckle before a glare from her partner shuts her up, and I can feel half the room staring at me angrily. Good, let them hate me. All that easier to turn that into fear.

Calmly yet swiftly walking over to join my district partner, I give her hair silky blonde hair a quick ruffle, which sends another sharp look from her my way. This time I can't avoid the slight smirk from appearing, though I quickly stifle it, sending my undivided attention to the head trainer- who has a glazed look over her eyes which hides any emotion she might be feeling right now.

"Alright then, now that all of our tributes are here, allow me to make a quick introduction." The middle aged woman stands in military position, hands held behind her back, pacing back and forth-eyes glancing over this years batch of tributes. "I am the head trainer this year, as well as the trainer for the hand-to-hand combat station. This year is a quell, which means things will be running slightly different than usual. New stations have been added in, and some have been taken out. Most notably, almost all of the survival stations revolving around surviving the elements are not available this year."

A quick murmur runs through the tributes that is quickly cut off as she continues as if no interruption was made. "You may take that particular bit of information however you wish." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "Also, a shooting range station as well as a animal taming station has been added. Again, you can decide what that means in relation to the arena.

"Normally I would give you all a brief speech on the importance of the survival stations, but seeing as those are for the most part unavailable I have no advice other than to just go with your gut and your intuition. One final note before I send you all off, as of this year there has been a change regarding the time that the training stations are open. Most stations will continue to open and close at eight o'clock, however the unmanned stations-such as the obstacle course and shooting range will remain open twenty-four seven. Use your time wisely, and may the odds be ever in your favor. You are all dismissed to do as you may."

The crowd mainly stays in place, glancing around uneasily at each other, the little kids clinging closely to their district partners. I jerk my head towards the direction of Four, and the boy from Two takes note, nudging for the girl to follow him as we walk over to meet with the older girl. Currently she's leaning against a wall, glancing at her nails, paying no mind to either her partner or us as we congregate in the corner.

I glance my head back at the main group to see that the older girl from Eight, younger boy from Seven, and both from Ten have branched off towards the various stations, though the rest remain uneasily in the center.

"Real tough competition this year," I retort, attempting to break the awkward silence that's fallen over the group.

The girl glances up for half a second and nods tersely before shooting her gaze back down.

"Well," I continue, unfazed by her feigned disinterest. I've seen that tactic from other kids at the academy, guarantee within minutes she'll be pushing to try to be the leader despite her obvious lack of interest-or qualification. "Lots to talk about regarding the training stations this year, but first things first I think we should all introduce ourselves so we don't have to call each other by our district numbers."

The boy from Two nods his head in agreement, "Plus, it would be helpful to know what all of strengths and weaknesses are- that way we can make sure we're covering all our bases."

"Marina Rivera." All of us glance over in surprise at the girl from Four, who still hasn't looked up from her nails. "All you need to know about me is I'm a career specializing in throwing knives that planned on volunteering this year, and that unless you guys can convince me I won't be better off on my own then I won't stick around and lower my own chances of winning just for the sake of having our little Career pack."

"Lovely," I reply, flashing a charming grin. "And as much as I can respect you're determination to win, I would like to point out that you do have a little kid that you need to keep alive if you want to win. Which means you probably want an ally that can keep an eye on her at all times, and one you can trust on top of that. If you think you can find that elsewhere, then by all means, by my guest to leave right now."

Marina glances up from her nails at me, her face still devoid of emotion, staring at me for a solid few seconds before a sly grin creeps onto her face. "Charming, I think I might stay around just to see what kind of background our glorious pack leader here has."

I shrug in response. "Somebody's gotta take charge, and I didn't exactly see anybody else moving things forward." She seems to concede that point, going back to glancing at her fingernails without interest. "Anyways, I'm Aurum Lark-" I resist the temptation to add on 'golden boy of District One and future victor' because, as much as I dislike Marina, we need everyone we can get this year, and antagonizing her won't help that cause- "I've been training at the academy for as long as I can remember, and I can use just about any weapon, though I specialize in throwing knives and the bow."

Marina seems to perk up in interest at the mention of throwing knives, and I can see a bit of fire in her eyes as she does so. Looks we get a fiery competitor. I quickly file away that information before turning my attention back to the boy from Two, nodding in his direction.

"Well," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm Alerio Weissman, y'all can call me Rio, and I've been training at the Peacekeeper Academy for eight years now. Only weapon I have experience with is a gun, so lucky me I guess?" Glory giggles at that, and a slight smile appears on Rio's lips.

"Ya, the guns being a part of training is strange, and the lack of survival stations is even weirder," I state, shifting gears.

Rio nods his head. "Only way to really find out is to look at all the stations, but from just that little bit I would be expecting some sort of sheltered arena. I doubt they want everybody dying of natural causes in a quell. The guns are probably in there to make sure things don't go too slowly."

I curse internally. While him having training is good news, Rio is a bit too competent for my liking. I'll have to make sure to keep a close eye on him.

"Definitely a possibility," I respond, glancing over to see that only the boy from three remains standing confusedly in the center, with the rest of the tributes already beginning to train-most flocking towards the knives and gun range. "One more thing before we ought to start to train- what are your guys' thoughts on adding another kid to the Career pack? Normally I would be totally against it, but considering the amount of. . . . adept individuals we currently have, I would be willing to consider adding one more."

"We're not idiots you know," Glory mutters, caught half between offense and timidness, fading off into barely a whisper by the end of her sentence.

"He never called you one." The younger girl from Two shoots back, much to my surprise. "Aurum is a career, you should respect him!"

I'm barely able to stop myself from laughing at the display, instead managing to keep it as a slight smile. I already knew the girl was enthused to be in the games based on her memorable reaping, but apparently she's a fiery career as well. If only she was a few years older and could actually handle a weapon, we'd have at least one competent kid.

"Fiona," Rio says sharply, shooting her a glare.

"What?" Fiona asks incredulously. "Aurum is the leader and she's not respecting him!"

"Why should I respect him if he doesn't respect me?" Glory responds, much more bold than before. "And why are you defending him, he was saying it to you just as much as he was me! He didn't even bother to have us say our names!"

As entertaining as it is, and as much as I want this fight to continue, one glance behind me confirms that I have to put an end to it. Roughly half the tributes have stopped what they're doing and are know glancing at us with expressions ranging from uneasiness all the way to the girl from Eight-who is currently doubled over in laughter. I quickly make a mental note to deal with her later, before turning my attention back to the group.

"Both of you need to can it," I say sternly, careful to keep my voice low enough that the others can't eavesdrop. "If you want respect, and for us to stop treating you like kids, then stop acting like one." Glory grits her teeth at this, while Fiona gazes up in interest, soaking in every word. "I think it would serve all of us well to break off for a bit and cool our heads. We'll meet up again at lunch time to discuss potential careers, and you guys sure as hell better have calmed down by then, and not just for my sake. If you want anybody here to be scared of you, then you better shape up, because that boy from seven that's double your size sure as hell isn't going to be scared of some bitchy little rugrats."

Glory responds in defeat, glaring down at her feet, Fiona still has that same awe-struck look, Marina is still leaning against the wall unimpressed(the little girl attempting to cling onto her leg to no avail), while Rio glances between Glory and I uneasily. "You got anything you need to say Rio?" I ask, putting forth no effort to keep the disgust out my voice.

He shakes his head slightly, eyes narrowing in on me. "Let's just remember who the real enemy is here, alright?"

Marina kicks off the wall suddenly, straightening her back and bringing her hand up in a salute. "You got it, boss."

"Well this is a shit show," I mutter, exasperated. "I motion for us to not even glance at each other for the next few hours, and next time leave discussion to an absolute minimum."

"Motion approved," Marina replies, still in her dumbass salute position.

"You're salute is off," Rio replies tiredly. "It's supposed to be your right hand's fingers pressed together over just your right eyebrow, not your full hand at your forehead."

"Sir, sorry, sir! I will fix A-S-A-P, sir!" Marina shoots back, adjusting her salute.

I let out a sigh and turn around, walking over to the hand-to-hand combat station to let out some steam against some trainers.

"Fucking shit show."

* * *

 _~I'm evil to the core  
What I shouldn't do I will_  
 _They say I'm emotional_  
 _What I wanna save I'll kill_  
 _Is that who I truly am?_  
 _I truly don't have a chance_  
 _Tomorrow I'll keep a beat_  
 _And repeat yesterday's dance~_


	15. Guns For Hands

**A/N: So I planned on getting through the rest of the pre-games stuff super fast, with like 1.5k word chapters, but then I just sat down and started writing and 3 hours later I have 3.5k words written. So much for that. So lots of tribute interactions this chapter, which means drama, fluff, angst, and all that awesome stuff. Thank you '** **somewhere clover the rainbow' for Amara, and for having a pretty sick name. Hopefully I did Amara justice!**

 **Trivia:** **The answer for last time was the "remember who the real enemy is" line. HogwartsDreamer was the only one to get that one right, so she gets one point! I'll get up a sponsor system in a couple chapters, once we get to the Private Sessions.**

* * *

 **Amara Ekall, 7, District 6**

 **Training Day 1, 1:55 P.M.**

 _~Together, let's breathe,_

 _Together, to the beat,_

 _But there's hope out the window,_

 _So that's where we'll go,_

 _Let's go outside and all join hands,_

 _But until then you'll never understand.~_

"C'mon, Armie," I shout out from the water to my new friend, who is currently sitting above me with just his toes dipped into the water, eyeing it wearily. "The water is awesome!" When he doesn't look at all convinced, I send a splash of water at him, giggling.

Armie shakes his hair and rubs his eyes, spitting out a bit of water that goes in his mouth, staring at me, conflicted. "I don't know," he replies shakily. "I've never been in water before."

I roll my eyes at him and giggle. "Neither have I!"

He rubs the back of his head, eyes bouncing between me and his feet, unsure of what to do. "But what if I drown?" He asks weakly.

In response I flip onto my back, allowing the vest that the trainers put on Armie and I earlier to do the work to keep me afloat. "Don't you remember? Mr. Hudson said that these would make it _impossible_ for us to go underwater."

Armie still doesn't seem convinced, and I roll my eyes, sending another splash towards him, temporarily blinding him as he rubs his eyes furiously. While he's distracted I try out the way to swim that Mr. Hudson taught me earlier, swinging my arms and kicking my feet wildly. I make slow progress, but manage to get to Armie just as he finally shakes his head crazily to rid the rest of the water out of his hair, shooting me a sharp glare.

"Would you stop doing that?" He asks, pouting.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," I reply defensively, a small smile creeping onto my lips.

Just as he notices the smile and begins to open his mouth to question it I quickly tug on his feet, sending his body sliding into the pool with a yelp.

He lands on his back on the water, and a massive splash blinds me, filling up my nose with the burning sensation of the water. I turn away from Armie for a moment, catching my breathe as he does the same.

Coughing out the rest of the water, I switch my attention to Armie, who is currently shivering furiously, shooting a mean glance my way. "Y-you p-p-p-promised you w-wouldn't do th-that." He shivers out accusingly, rubbing his arms.

"No, I promised I'd stop splashing you," I reply triumphantly, a grin wide on my face. It quickly dissipates however when I see the hurt on Armie's face, and I send my gaze down to the distorted image of my feet through wavy water. "I'm sorry," I say, attempting to make my voice as sincere as possible. "I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted-"

I'm interrupted mid-sentence as a barrage of water is sent at me, filling my mouth and nose, just barely missing my eyes and hair. It takes me a moment to recover from choking, turning around quickly to avoid any more direct hits from Armie, who is now giggling like a crazy person.

"Dirty shot!" I shout out through breathes, sending a splash behind my back.

"Says you!" He replies defiantly, his voice still broken up with giggles.

I spin around and rear both my arms back for a single, gigantic splash, but stop midway as the sound of an ear-piercing whistle causes me to jump.

"Lunch time, all tributes must leave the station they are currently on for a twenty minute break!"

The two of us groan in unison, shoulders slouching, slowly doggy-paddling our way to the ladder to get us back onto solid floor. As my feet break out of the water and into the air, my legs suddenly feel like hundred pound weights, and I struggle to push myself up the rest of the way.

I manage to crawl up onto the floor, pushing myself off of my knees and onto my feet. The trainer from earlier, Mr. Hudson, smiles down at me and pats me on the shoulder. "Glad to see you two getting comfortable in the water, next time you stop by I'll work on getting you guys to swim a bit faster."

Returning the smile, I look up at him and nod my head in agreement enthusiastically. Behind me Armie struggles to get up just as much as I did, and Mr. Hudson grabs him by the hands, pulling him up the rest of the way. Armie thanks him silently, and asks the question I'd been thinking of. "Why do my legs feel so heavy?"

"You're much lighter in water than you are air, so it takes your body a moment to adjust to it taking more effort to move. Now, go head to the cafeteria and get something to eat, you two must be starving."

Armie's stomach growls in agreement, and the two of us thank him again before sprinting off to the double doors that all the rest of the tributes are lining up at currently, slowing down to a fast walk when he yells at us to not run.

The two of us line up behind the girl from one, going back and forth bragging about how much better our splashes were than the other. Soon we reach the front of the line, and are each handed a tray of food by an older woman with a hair net and a neutral expression on her face.

Armie and I quickly thank her, and turn around to figure out where to sit. All of the Careers are loudly arguing at the table nearest us, while the girl from One and boy from Two silently eat at the end of the table. At the next table the pair from Three sit at the end, the girl meeting my gaze coldly, causing me to quickly send my glance elsewhere. At the last table the pair from Eight are chatting animatedly with the hulking boy from Seven, while his District partner talks with the boy from Ten, and the pair from Twelve with the girl from Ten. Finally, at the end of the table sits Armie's District partner, Fox.

I nudge Armie and point towards the table, and he hesitantly follows after me. As nervous as it makes me to be around so many older kids, I do my best to put on a brave face and keep marching forward. Atlas told me that if I wanted to ally with anybody, I'd have to be allies with both of the kids from the District. Which means I have to ally with Fox.

"Hi," I squeak out to the older boy, only able to see the top of his head, his spiky, sandy hair and thick eyebrows as he looks down at his food. He glances up just a bit, his light blue eyes wide open in half surprise, half something else I can't pick up.

"Hey," He mutters back, his voice barely discernible due to the food filling his mouth.

"Mind if me and Armie sit here?" I ask hesitantly, hoping my voice doesn't make me sound as nervous as I am.

Fox glances around, then back to Armie and I, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't any law against it, is there?"

I smile back at him, but he doesn't return it, continuing to stare at me emptily. My grin all but dissipates, barely in place as I set down my tray and swing my feet up to take my seat on the bench. After a moment Armie does the same, keeping his gaze down on his tray, filled up with the same array as mine, a carton of milk, pile of noodles, and dark brown square of some sort of chocolaty dessert I don't recognize.

Fox munches on the square, pieces of it crumbling to the ground, his eyes still locked on me as he does so.

Armie begins to whistle, poking at his noodles with his fork. "Stop whistling." Fox commands as soon as he starts, not even bothering to look over to Armie as he does so.

He listens to Fox, eyes averted to his shoes, any signs of his giggly happiness now completely gone.

"So," I start, determined to fight through my nervousness. Armie isn't just an ally, he's my friend, and I don't want to go into the games without him. "What did you do today?"

"Depends," He replies coldly. "Why you asking?"

I shuffle in my seat, his gaze starting to unsettle me. I'm not even quite sure if he's blinked in the past couple minutes since he started looking at me. "Well," I shrug, "me and Armie have been together today, and we wanted to be allies, and I was wondering if you wanted to-"

"I'm not allying with you," He cuts me off, his tone in his voice offering no argument.

"Why not?" Armie speaks up for the first time, and Fox finally switches his gaze away from me and over to my friend.

"I'm not here to make friends, I'm here to survive. I'm not allying with some helpless little girl just because you want a friend. One little kid I have to keep alive is plenty enough." His tone is icy and cold, yet not necessarily angry, as if he's just stating obvious facts.

Just as he finishes speaking I can sense somebody behind me and turn around to find Zarach sliding his tray next to mine and sitting down without a word, as quiet as ever.

I'm unable to hide me surprise at seeing my District partner, my eyes widening. For most of the time in the Train Rides and last night he's completely avoided me, barely even glancing at me, much less sitting next to me for lunch.

"Hey Zarach!" I exclaim excitedly, anxious to turn my attention away from Fox. Even though Zarach hasn't been very approachable, he at least hasn't been flat out mean(although him being almost two feet taller than me certainly makes him intimidating to say the least).

"Amara," He states simply, nodding before turning his attention back to his food. We sit in silence for a few moments before Zarach turns over to me. "So, how was your day?" He seems to force the words out through gritted teeth.

I stay silent in shock for a second over Zarach actually talking to me out of his own will before gathering myself and diving into a full breakdown of the past few hours.

"Well after you went to the shooting range I went over to the animal taming station, because I thought the dog looked really cute. Then when I was there I met Armie and we hung out and we even got to go swimming, and. . . ." I go on, searching my memory for every single thing I learned and every new person I met so far. After a while, however, I trail off- noticing Zarach looking like he's having a hard time containing his anger.

As soon as my whispers fade off, Zarach drops his fork into his pile of noodles and glares at Fox. "What you looking at Five?" His voice fails to contain the anger that drips from it. "Anything you want to say?"

Fox seems a bit shocked by the confrontation, leaning back, though not switching his gaze from being firmly on Zarach- similarly to how he did to me earlier. "Just sizing you up," He replies simply after a moment, seemingly regaining his composure.

"Well, don't," Zarach spits back immediately.

"Make me," Fox replies with just a bit of hesitation, eyes narrowing in a glare.

Armie shuffles next to me. "Fox, I-"

"I didn't ask your opinion, Armand."

"But-"

"Shut the _hell_ up, Armand."

Next to me Zarach shoots up to his feet, pushing out his metal tray, a loud clanking noise echoing through the cafeteria as it hits the ground. The rest of our table quiets down, all glancing over at us curiously. "Watch your mouth Five, before you say something you might regret."

Fox stands up himself, flinching for just a moment as he looks across the table to see himself over half a foot smaller in stature. He points accusingly at Zarach, a slight, barely noticeable, shake in both his hand and voice. "I said it once, I'll say it again," He steels himself up, broadening his shoulders. "Make me."

"Come over here and I'll gladly oblige," Zarach spits back, fists clenching by his side. His eyes seem to be lit on fire, and I can't help but shrink away from him. I've never seen anybody look so mad in my life, and one glance over at Armie confirms it to be the same from his end.

"Gladly," Fox replies dully, rolling up his sleeves and swinging around the edge of the table and over to our side. As he approaches Armie, my friend places a hand on his arm, a quiver in his voice. "Guys, please don't-"

Fox swats the hand away, sending Armie recoiling back. By now the rest of the cafeteria is dead silent, even the careers gazing on to see what the commotion is about.

Temporarily Fox switches his attention over to Armie, a finger pointed at his chest. "For the last time Armand, shut the fu-"

His sentence is cut off mid-way through as Zarach quickly closes the distance between the two, sending a fist square into his eye. Fox lets out a muffled scream before dropping straight to the floor, hands covering his eye as he squirms on the ground in pain, yelling out a string of obscenities.

By instinct I can't stop the scream that finds its way out from my throat, bringing my arms up to cover my eyes, where a stream of tears is uncontrollably streaming.

"I'm fine, you can let go of me," I hear the disgruntled, though much more calm voice of Zarach come from behind me, and I bring my arms down to find him struggling out of the grasp of a couple of trainers.

The struggle continues for another few moments as another trainer rushes to Fox's aid, a loud murmur coming from the other tributes, before a booming voice from the entrance cuts them off. "Swanson! Bret! Release him!"

All of the voices cut off immediately, and with one last tug Zarach frees himself from the two trainers, all eyes now on the older, vaguely familiar looking man standing at the entrance.

"Head Gamemaker Dawson," The younger of the two trainers starts, "this tribute-"

"I am well aware of the events that have just transpired, Swanson, thank you very much." The man slouches, averting his gaze to the floor. "And I would like to add that any further instances of such cases will result in _severe_ punishments for all parties involved." The man glares down every tribute in the room, almost daring them to question him. "But, seeing as this was a mutually agreed fight, I will let it slip, just this one time. But let me make it clear, that any repeats of today's performance, particular by Mr. King or Eleazor will not be looked upon by such favorable eyes." He pauses for a moment, letting the words sink in, and I quickly wipe the remaining tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, letting out a deep breathe. "Bring Mr. King up to his floor and inform his mentor's of what's happened, Kahl. As for the rest of you, you may continue with your lunches."

With that the man turns away and struts out of the room, conversation restarting in whispers as the trainer the man called Kahl helping Fox up and walking him out of the cafeteria.

Zarach takes his seat back next to me, and I instinctively flinch away from him, mentally hitting myself as I see the brief flash of hurt that crosses his eyes before he quickly hides it. Armie shuffles awkwardly next to me, and I can feel the eyes of everybody on me. I almost didn't even realize during the moment how many people there were watching us, I was so lost in the moment. But now that I'm back to thinking normally suddenly the weight of so many gazes causes me fills me up with nervousness, desperately wishing that everyone would just go back to what they were doing before.

After a few minutes of sitting in awkward silence most people do exactly that, only a few tributes continuing to stare at our trio. Desperate to break the silence, and still feeling guilty about flinching away from Zarach earlier, I grab the dessert square from my tray and split it in half, handing one of the pieces over to Zarach, offering a slight smile.

After a second of hesitation reaches out and takes it, golfing down the whole thing in one bite as I nibble on mine delicately, not letting any crumbs escape my grasp.

"Thanks," Zarach says after he finishes the treat, offering me the first smile I've seen on his face since I met him.

"No problem," I reply sincerely. "Figured since you lost your food. . . ."

"Oh, ya." He looks over at the end of the table, where his tray still lies on the ground.

"Why'd you hit him?" Armie interjects suddenly, his voice not full of any accusation, just genuine curiousness.

Zarach glances down at his feet and lets out a sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I-" He stops himself, and shakes his head. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life." His voice comes out tired, the bags under his eyes suddenly much more pronounced. "I seen other people get hurt, and instead of helping them, I just ran away, determined to keep myself safe. Thinking that if I didn't have to see the pain, then I wouldn't have to think about it. That I wouldn't have to feel guilty about it.

"But I was wrong," He states, the fire in his eyes rekindling for a moment before dying out, his voice gaining momentum and confidence. "All I did was make the pain worse. For them and for me. I-" He chokes on the words, letting out a sigh before glancing back at the ground. "I'm not making that mistake again." His gaze switches back up to Armie and I. "I may not be able to save everybody, but I'm not going to run away ever again."

His eyes water up for just a moment before he furiously blinks it away, jaw set in determination, locking eyes with me. "I'm not making any more regrets."

Even though I don't understand half of what Zarach says, the look in his eyes says everything, and instinctively sends my body into motion. Before I can even form any clear thoughts, I find myself flying towards Zarach, wrapping my arm around his back and leaning my head into his shoulder.

I can sense Zarach tensing up for a moment before he lets up and tentatively brings an arm me as well, clinging onto me like a lifeline, looking down to the ground as tears well up in his eyes yet again.

The next words from him come out in just barely a whisper, barely audible and probably not meant for me to hear. "No more regrets."

I glance up at him, smile still firmly in place, determined for a reason I'm not quite sure of even to make sure that wish comes true.

No more regrets.

* * *

 **Trivia(1 point): Who were the careers that sat away from the main group?**


	16. New Perspective

**A/N: So this is late, I know. As some of you may know I got super sick and was bed ridden for a few days, and have had basically 0 free time since. Only reason I even got this done is I stayed home from school today because my car broke down. Things might continue to be a bit iffy for the next month, but I'll do my best to keep these coming out, and I have winter break at the end of this month to start getting these out again. Thank you to my beta HogwartsDreamer for helping out and Quack Master for Fox. And as always, hope y'all enjoy!**

 **The answer for trivia last time was Rio and Glory, which quite a few of you got right. I'll tally up all your points at the Private Sessions, and set up a basic sponsor system at the same time.**

* * *

 **Fox King, 15, District 5**

 **Training Day 1, 3:08 P.M.**

 _~I feel the salty waves come in_

 _I feel them crash against my skin_

 _And I smile as I respire because I know they'll never win_

 _There's a haze above my TV_

 _That changes everything I see_

 _And maybe if I continue watching_

 _I'll lose the traits that worry me~_

"Well, at the very least you look tough now," Audra says with a weak smile as she hands me an ice pack, instructing me to keep it held on my eye for the next half hour to reduce the swelling.

"I look like I got the shit beat out of me," I mutter in response.

"Strong guy like you? I think they'll know you put up a fight, just that your bruises are more obvious."

I glare at her, struggling to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "Stop patronizing me."

Audra lets out a sigh, shaking her head and walking off into the next room. "You know," she calls out from the kitchen. "you shouldn't be so hard on yourself." She comes back into the room, holding a couple mugs of a fizzy drink, one of which she hands to me before sitting down on the couch next to me. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"We're the same age, Audra," I reply blankly. "Stop treating me like a kid."

She seems to flinch back at that for a moment, before regaining her composure, putting on that same dumb smile that everyone knows is fake. "Fine, then instead of as a mentor, let me ask you the questions again, as a friend."

"You aren't my friend," I shoot back at her, hoping that she gets the message and just leaves me alone. "Why are you even here, anyways? Shouldn't you be getting me sponsors right now?"

She shuffles uncomfortably, and I know immediately I hit a nerve with her, with even her trademark smile faltering, failing to come back up. "Fox," Her voice comes out slightly shakily, though she quickly hides it. "I can't help you if you don't let me. I really, really want to bring you back home. But if you can't even trust me to tell you how in the world you got a black eye in training, then how am I supposed to help you? How do I sell you to sponsors who want to get to know you, when I don't even know the answers to any of their questions?"

"Don't try to act like you give a shit about me winning," I shoot back, glaring at her with my one good eye. "Why would you give a damn whether I win, the Capital already loves you, so it isn't like it'll make them like you any better to bring home a victor. You just sit here and lounge around while Caleb does all the work."

"What?" Audra asks confusedly, seemingly taken aback.

"You're just sitting up here alone, aren't you? You dodged the question last time, so I'll ask again. Why aren't you with Caleb getting sponsors?"

Audra's face flushes red in a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness. She opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out, and then after a moment, a knock at the door sends her out of her shock. Avoiding looking at me she quickly takes a deep breathe and walks out of the room.

Once she leaves my mind begins to wonder, picking over the possible reasons for why that particular questions seems to fluster her so much. As much as I bugged her about it, her reaction was way too strong for it be that she's just lazy and doesn't want to help, and I caught her. No, there's something else behind it.

Audra walks back into the room, the red left from her face, now just looking confused more than anything else, holding an unmarked white envelope.

She mutters something under her breathe that I don't catch before tearing it open, pulling out a small slip of paper.

The reactions is immediate. The slip instantly drops from her hands and onto the floor, the color draining from her face. She slumps against the wall, her wobbly legs barely keeping her on her feet as she mutters something incoherent to herself repeatedly.

I raise an eyebrow at her, but decide against speaking, instead opting to continue analyzing her to see if I can find out what in the world just happened. My gaze switches to the slip on the ground, which I can make out to just have a few words on them, and I make a mental note to read over it once she leaves the room.

Looking back over at Audra, she seems to suddenly notice that I'm still in the room and she freezes, her dark eyes locking on mine, so many emotions rushing through her that I can't even keep track of them all.

Forcing a smile back onto her lips(a surprisingly convincing one at that), Audra gets back up to her feet and takes a seat next to me.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, her composure slowly but surely calming down, before she glances over at me, warm features and a soft, glowing smile radiating from her. "You're wrong you know."

"About what?" I ask, squinting, an oddly uncomfortable feeling running through me, throbbing through my veins.

"I really do want you to come home, I wish I could get you to see that." She pauses for a moment, glancing at the ground. "You really 'ought to stop being so hard on yourself. It starts to seep outward when you do."

"What?" I ask in genuine confusion. Everything she's saying now has this weird sort of mood attached to it, so much more. . . . genuine than before.

She giggles, shaking her head. "Something Caleb told me when I was in the same shoes you are." Her gaze goes blank, and she quirks her lip, shaking her head before looking at me intently, her features still having that same warmth and calamity to it. She pushes her light brown hair back behind her ear, exposing her dark, yet somehow bright brown eyes more clearly, which are currently focused directly on me, causing me to shift slightly, my cheeks heating up slightly.

"Don't get so caught up in who you are that you lose sight of what you want to be, Fox. Because while I may not know much about you are, I have full faith that you know this isn't who you really strive to be." She looks back down and stands up, walking back over to the edge of the room. "You can head back to training after you're done icing your eye if you want."

"I will," I state, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice, her words still swirling through my head, attempting to piece together the meaning.

"Alright," she says softly, heading towards the door. "Goodbye Fox."

I don't reply, waiting until the door clicks shut to let out out my breathe, leaning back into the cushion of the sofa, tossing the ice away from my eye, anger swelling up in me as I look in the large mirror at the other end of the room.

Bastard sucker punched me while my own District partner distracted me. And then there's my mentor, who looks and acts more like a twelve year old than what she really is-my own age. Where the hell to start with her? Makes me wish that the drunkard was around more often. Says a couple of cryptic one-liners and thinks that it's gonna suddenly make some massive change in who I am? And what the hell did she mean by saying that I'm not the person I want to be right now? Since when did she know more about myself than I do?

Yet still despite all of that I can't get rid of that looming feeling in my gut that won't go away. My mind flashes back to the warmth and genuine sincerity that Audra showed to me at the end, but I shake it off and shove it away. She's a good actor, I'll give her that, but the words are still empty. She doesn't give a damn about me, why would she?

I glance over at the clock to see the time, only a half hour past three. Still over four hours of training left in the day, which means I have to go back, unless I want to miss out on key training time.

Doing my best to contain my anger I curl my hands into fists, shutting my eyes. I've already lost my chance of being with the Careers like I had planned thanks to Armie, and there's no way in hell I'm allying with Six. The girl from Three seems competent, but her District partner would drive me mad so that's off limits. The boy from Seven is too mopey to be of any help, the girl from Eight is flat out insane, the pair from Ten are both too small, and the girl from Twelve is way too protective of the kid to be useful. Which narrows it down to just two choices left: Nine and Eleven.

I steel myself up and begin mentally preparing for going back to training, thinking of what to do, what to say, the excuses for why I lost the fight. After all, if I had a fair fight with him I would have won, he just sucker punched me because he knew he had to. Once they see what I can offer they'll be begging for an alliance with me. Whether or not they'll show enough skill for me to agree will have to be seen.

I walk towards the exit, ready to get things back on line, but stop myself in my tracks with what I see on the ground right next to the door. The slip of paper. The thing that made Audra, as impeccable actor as she is, completely and utterly breakdown.

With no hesitation I reach down and grab the slip, eagerly reading it over, only to be immediately disappointed. All that's on it is a name I don't recognize, an address that vaguely rings a bell(Colfax Avenue-where have I heard that before?), and a time- ten o'clock tonight.

What in the world could of made Audra freak out so badly on this? I narrow my eyes and search over the paper again, looking for something that I missed last time, but find nothing. I shake my head and slip the paper into my pocket. Maybe I can find somebody else that will recognize the name or address.

As my hand reaches into my pocket it brushes up against a piece of smooth metal. I quickly pull it out, finding the token I had forgotten I had even taken, now in my hand. It's just a simple dog tag with _fox_ engraved on it, the _x_ half-covered in rust from years of use.

But despite its unassuming appearance, the dog tag is probably the only material thing that holds any special meaning to me, being the inspiration for dad to name me Fox in the first place. The tag used to belong to a Peacekeeper of the same name, with him, dad, and Acer all being close friends. Acer and Fox had both come from District Two, and how they became friends with dad I still don't know.

Somehow-dad never really talked much about his past- Fox got killed in action, and dad and Acer hung onto the tags to remember him, and when I was born a year later my dad decided the best way to respect his memory would be to name him after him.

I close my fist around the tag, the broken chain spilling out between my knuckles, and I shut my eyes, clearing my head. I promised myself I wouldn't think about home until I was out of the games. There's no time now to start reminiscing. No time to start going soft.

Stuffing the tag back into my pocket, my mind wanders back to Audra for a moment yet again as my hand slips against the paper, and I quickly do my best to force its way out of my mind. Why in the world does she keep on making her way into my thoughts? I need to be focusing on the games, not on some stupid girl.

Yet still the image of her still lingers, along with that same dumb feeling that won't go away. I curl my right hand into a fist and smack my palm against the side of my head, shaking it in an attempt to clear my thoughts completely, seemingly working temporarily.

Letting in a deep breathe I hit the button on the elevator to take me back down to training, jumping and shaking in place in order to get out my excess energy. Within just seconds the door opens, and I close my eyes, exhale, and open my eyes back up. Uncurling my fists, I step into the elevator, fully focused on the task at hand.

As the elevator plummets downwards, sending me back with another chance to do things right, the voice of my dad pops into my thoughts.

 _'If you ever get a second chance for something, you've got to go all the way.'_

The door opens and I ball my hands into a fist, face set in a hard line, determined to make sure to do just that.

* * *

 **Trivia: (1 point): No wrong answer here, but we've seen half the tributes now, so who's your favorite(s) and why?**


	17. Move Along

**A/N: So another interlude(that went way longer than I anticipated) introducing you guys to another one of our main players on the Capitol side of things. I originally planned on having basically 0 subplot, but have recently switched up on that end and decided to focus more heavily on it, with the subplot playing a pretty major part in the story now. Don't worry though, to make it up for you guys I've also added in an extra little pre-games bit so you guys can see even more of your tributes before the games start(its mentioned in this chapter). Just want to take this time to thank everybody for their continued support for my story! It makes my day to read your guys' reviews, and hear your thoughts on my writing!**

* * *

 **Coira Thompson, 31, Capitol Citizen, Hunger Games reporter, ex-CDA agent**

 _~When all you got to keep is strong_

 _Move along, move along like I know you do_

 _And even when your hope is gone_

 _Move along, move along just to make it through~_

I hate paperwork. I spent seven years of my life in the CDA, and during that time got shot in the chest on three separate occasions, was exposed to nerve gas multiple times, and was injected with a (luckily extremely small) dose of nightlock. Yet nothing frustrated me more during that time than the mountains of paperwork after every mission. Nothing can quite compare to having a whole stack of confidentiality and non-liability forms tossed at you while you're still getting your stomach pumped after being the second person to ever survive getting poisoned with nightlock.

And yet of course, my dad knowing this full well decided to put me in charge of sifting through hundreds of legal documents in order to trace down friends and family of the tributes for the final eight interviews. Knowing that the only reason he's given this task to me is so he can transfer the task of doing said interviews to me eases the frustration of going through the hundred page disciplinary history of Boaz 'Spark' Ash, only slightly.

"Mom?" The timid voice of my six year old daughter calls out through the doorway, her head poking around the corner.

Setting down the stack on my desk, I force a smile onto my lips. "Connie, what are you doing up this late, do you have any idea what time it is?"

In return she shrugs, and I can't help but roll my eyes, leaning back into my chair. "Alright, come in, what is it?"

Wearily she makes her way into the room, dragging her feet and eyes fixed on the floor, pillow clutched tightly at her waist. "Are we still going with grandpa to work tomorrow?"

Letting out a sigh, I shake my head. "Sorry honey, but something came up and grandpa won't be able to bring us tomorrow, but he did promise that we could come on Saturday instead, and to make up for it he mentioned something about getting to go backstage for the interviews Sunday."

Connie's eyes light up at the mention of her favorite day of the year, though she doesn't verbalize any excitement, standing frozen in place.

"But you promised we could go tomorrow," she moans, tightening her pull on her pillow.

"I know, sweety, but grandpa is doing something really important tomorrow so we'll just have to do it another day."

"But you promised," she protests in a whiny voice. "I don't wanna go to school tomorrow."

"Connie," I reply, concern dripping from my voice, "you used to love school. What's gotten into you lately?"

In response Connie continues to stare at the ground in silence before glancing up at me inquisitively, any of her previous worry completely erased from her now curious features. "What are you working on?" She asks, walking over to my side and looking up at me expectantly.

Giving a sigh, I resign to my fate of never managing to grapple from Connie her sudden avoidance towards school. I've tried speaking with the principal and her teacher about it, but have gotten no possible answers in return. She hasn't been getting bullied at all, and according to her teacher has seemingly not even changed whatsoever. I mean, its not like I anticipated as outgoing and bubbly kid as herself to always enjoy school, I just didn't expect her to be burning out only a couple weeks away from the end of Kindergarten.

"Well," I reply, picking Connie up and plopping her down onto my lap as she glances above the table and onto the sheets herself. "Right now I'm doing some important work to help out grandpa learn about all of the tributes. Like, this one-" I pluck a random sheet of paper from the stack and read over it quickly. "This one is a school report from a boy the same age as you, named Izaak, from District Nine."

"What does it say?" She asks, clearly excited about the prospect of somebody in the games being the same age as her. It takes all of my willpower to stop the shiver from running down my spine at the thought of that, quickly burying any negative thoughts to the back of my mind.

"Oh, lots of stuff. Like here," I point to the top of the paper, "it says that his birthday is May 31st."

"Really?!" She exclaims enthusiastically. "That's only," she quickly brings up her fingers to count on, mouthing the numbers as she does so, "three days away!"

Giving her a quick ruffle through her silky, dirty blonde hair, I nod my head. "Yup, and you know what else is in three days?"

Her emerald green eyes go large as she stares up at me incredulously, the pieces slowly falling together in her mind. "That's when the interviews are!"

"Yup, we'll have to make sure to have you wish him a happy birthday when you see him, won't we?"

"Wait, you mean I'll get to actually talk to him?" Her eyes go wide at the idea, and I can't help but giggle in response, shaking my head.

"Well, this is gonna have to just be just you and mommy's secret, so you can't tell anybody okay?" After she furiously nods in response a smile creeps onto my lips and I continue. "This year, after the interviews there's gonna be a party with all the tributes and a few people in the Capitol that will get to meet all of the tributes and talk with them. And us two are on the list to go."

"Awesome!" She exclaims excitedly, then after a moments pause, "So does that mean I don't have to go to school on Monday then?"

Stifling a laugh, I roll my eyes. "I suppose so," I reply, earning a fit of giggling from Connie.

Before either of us can say anymore our conversation is cut off by a timid knock at the front door.

"Alright, sweety," I say, lifting Connie up and setting her down on the floor. "It's about time you get to bed, okay?"

"But I wanna stay up with you," she protests.

"I'm sorry honey but you have school tomorrow that you still have to go to."

"But-"

"No buts," I cut her off. "You may only have two weeks left of school, but you still have to finish up, alright?"

The look of devastation on Connie's face throws me for a spin, and I almost find myself caving in and letting her stay up, but stay firm and usher her towards her bedroom as I step out into the hall. She may not be learning much in school right now, but I can't start getting in the habit of letting her skip school just for the heck of it, no matter how hard saying no to her puppy eyes may be.

Walking through the halls and past the living room and towards the doorway of our one-floor home, I glance at a clock that lets me know the time is now nearing an hour past midnight. "Who in their right mind. . . ." I mutter to myself.

The answer is given to me as I open the door to find a young girl, no older than 15, standing at my doorstep, shivering furiously and eyes darting around nervously. Her light brown hair is soaked from the pouring rain outside and is clinging to her skin, covering her sunken, dark brown eyes, her foot tapping with nervous energy.

The second that I open the door the girl jumps, and I take a half-step back myself before forcing a warm smile to my lips. "Hello, there," I offer kindly.

The girl brings her hands out of her pocket and instead wraps herself around with them, desperately attempting to fend off the shivers that are going off like shock-waves throughout her body. "Hi," she squeaks out between chattering teeth.

"Do you want to come in?" I offer up automatically, opening up the door wider.

The girl jumps at the motion, taking a tentative step back, fear and uncertainty flashing through her eyes underneath the mess of hair obscuring her vision.

Doing my best to warm my features, I offer a smile. "Sorry, I suppose you don't know who I am, do you? I'm Coira Thompson, what about you?"

She seems to freeze at the mention of my name, then in a warm, high-pitched voice that sounds eerily familiar, asks, "Thompson?"

Quickly giggling, I nod my head. "Yes, I am related to Apollo Thompson, unfortunately," I add in jokingly, though it earns no response from the girl, her mind seemingly in another place completely.

"You're his daughter, aren't you?" She asks breathlessly, much of the stress shown in her gone, her body much more relaxed.

"Yup, I-" I'm cut off as Audra throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around me and clinging to me desperately.

She stays like that for a half minute, her eyes slammed shut, her breathe steadily returning to normal, the shaking slowly beginning to leave her body. Finally she pulls herself away, instantly looking embarrassed as she does so, her cheeks flushed red.

"S-sorry," she stutters out, half from the cold and half from nervousness. "I just. . . ." she trails off, eyes fading away, staring off into nothing for a moment before she shakes her head, brushing the hair from out of her eyes. Once she does so I immediately recognize the face that was hidden below the mess, and mentally hit myself for not noticing it earlier.

"Audra Lee?" I ask surprised, her giving me a weak confirmation smile in return. "I couldn't recognize you earlier with your hair covering up your eyes. . . . what are you doing here at this hour?"

Audra averts her gaze to the ground, scratching the back of her neck with one hand, clutching onto a blank envelope with her other. "I. . . ." she trails off, murmuring something to herself.

My eyes lock back onto the envelope and I squint my eyes, an uneasy feeling eating away at the pit of my stomach, something in the back of my mind nagging at me. "Is it by any chance related to that envelope?"

The tightening of her grip and the return of that nervous energy in her foot is answer enough, but before I can press any further I'm interrupted by a voice from behind me.

"Mom?"

Letting out a sigh, I turn around to find my insomniac of a daughter standing in the center of the living room, her pillow now replaced by a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and dragging along the carpet behind her.

"Didn't I just tell you to go to bed, Connie?" I ask in what I mean to be a stern voice, but turns out sounding more exhausted than anything else.

"I heard you talking to somebody," she murmurs apologetically, shuffling her feet ever so slightly towards me.

It's then that her eyes seem to land on Audra, and the second she takes notice of her idol, her eyes widen in excitement, her blanket dropping to the floor as any trace of droopiness(and any chance of her sleeping tonight) dissipates in an instant.

"Mommy, is that Audra Lee?!" She asks, her voice dripping with enthusiasm as she bounces in excitement.

Letting out a sigh, I roll my eyes and turn to face Audra. "You'll have to excuse my daughter, I'm afraid she's your number one fan."

"It's okay," she replies quietly, the slightest bit of a smile forming on her lips as Connie raves on about how much she adores everything about Audra, going through every last thing that she's ever said in every single interview or TV show she's ever been in-save the Hunger Games themselves.

"Well," I say exasperatedly after ten minutes of Connie's raving, "I suppose that sleep isn't going to be coming tonight, is it?"

In response Connie furiously shakes her head, as large a grin as humanly possible still plastered onto her face, her eyes still sparkling in awe.

"I'm gonna be busy all day though honey, I won't have time to play with you or take you out anywhere, I don't think it'll be very exciting for you to just sit around the house and be bored.

"She can hang out with me," Audra blurts out, causing a surprised look from me and for Connie to somehow manage to get even more excited than before. "If you're okay with it that is," she quickly adds, her face beet red. "Gets kind of lonely up there in the D5 floor, with Caleb getting sponsors, and Fox and Armand training. I would love to have her company."

"That'd be fine," I reply, surprised yet still somewhat relieved at the offer to have some quiet around the house for a day. "I'm sure Connie will love it either way, I promised to take her on a tour of the training facility tomorrow, and she was pretty upset when something came up that made Apollo unable to take her."

The smile dissipates from Audra's lips at the mention of Apollo, and I quickly turn to Connie. "Alright sweety, this time you gotta go to bed for real so you can have some energy for tomorrow, okay?"

Connie quickly nods her head, and after blurting out a few more words of praise for Audra, heads off to bed to finally get some much needed sleep.

Once she's out of earshot I turn back to Audra, who is currently gazing at her feet, a glazed look over her eyes that I've only ever seen before twice in my life. Once from my days as a CDA agent, and the other from the time I agreed to adopt Connie. The moment that made me decide to throw away everything I'd worked for in my life until then, and leave the CDA, and my life as I knew it, right then and there.

"Tell me everything."


	18. Sight Of The Sun

**A/N: Okay so here we go, Training Day 2 begins! Thank you a ton to Bluesquad for submitting Noa, I had an absolute blast writing her. I've spent a ton of time researching in order to write her to my best ability, and hope that it showed off. Thank you all for the support, and make sure to let me know what you think of both Noa and my writing! (Also make sure to vote on the poll on my profile of who your favorite tributes are so far, this one as well as the next one I'll do in about 5 chapters will be extremely important, so make sure to vote!)**

 **Trivia(3 points): So big one today because it's a bit tougher. Basically because of Noa's mental state there are some. . . . mental inconsistencies that end up causing some unreliable narration. I slipped in a few lines in particular that don't make any sense logically, and if anyone can find them I'll give you 3 points, plus another 1 for another further ones.**

 **Noa Jacquard, 15, District 8**

 **Training Day 2, 7:47 A.M.**

 _~For once there is nothing up my sleeve_

 _Just some scars from a life that used to trouble me_

 _I used to run at first sight of the sun_

 _Now I lay here waiting for you to wake up~_

The clock reads seven forty-seven.

Breakfast has just arrived at the table with a two minute delay from its normal slot at seven forty-five, leaving two minutes to have to be cut off from either the ten minutes for eating, the two minutes for brushing my teeth, the two minutes for preparing to leave for school, or the one minute allotted for miscellaneous set-backs of any task.

As I stab my fork into a glob of scrambled eggs, I mentally cross out the prep time for school out of my schedule, reminding myself that there's nothing that you're required to bring to training, and thus nothing to prepare for.

Another four minutes of clearing my plate of the cheesy eggs, toast, and strawberries, and the plate is finally clean. Just as I finish gulping down a cup of chocolate milk, Fey and Roman both enter into the room, our middle aged escort hastily tying a ponytail out of Fey's thick, dark brown hair. Her dark brown eyes droop, the golden flakes in her eyes setting lazily on her dilated pupils as they glance tiredly at the table in front of her, feet dragging as Roman attempts to not bump into her, his fast fingers quickly finishing up tying the band around her hair.

"Good Morning, Fey. Roman," I nod towards them, keeping my voice professional and clear.

"Mornin'," Fey yawns out, taking the seat that Roman directs her to, her feet hanging over the edge as her head barely clears over the top of the table.

The clock reads seven fifty-three.

Roman takes a seat to the left of me, much to the distaste of Calico as he's bumped to the floor, sending a flurry of words he has no right knowing towards our escort.

"Are you just gonna let him push me around like that?" Calico exclaims angrily, stomping his foot and crossing his arms in anger.

"Not now, Calico," I mutter under my breath. "We're already off schedule, there's no time for an argument."

"There's never any time for anything!"

I ignore that retort, instead grabbing for another piece of buttered toast and quickly chomping down on it. "So," I say between bites, "what's your plan for today, you two?"

Calico looks at me with a raised eyebrow, face going blank. "What do you mean, we-"

"I dunno," Fey interrupts quietly, stretching out as she gives a loud yawn.

"Oh," Calico mutters, his face a mixture of hurt and faux indifference.

"Maybe we can go swimming," Fey suggests shyly. "I saw some of the other kids there yesterday and it looked fun."

"We?" Calico asks, jealousy dripping from his voice as he shoots daggers at Fey.

"Oh calm down," a tall man with baggy clothes and a rough grey beard says from the corner of the room, not even bothering to glance up from his newspaper as he does so. "She has to create allies if she wants any chance of winning the games. Strategy is an important facet that can't be ignored."

"Shut up Charles," he shoots back angrily, before turning back to me. "You've never needed anybody else before, why would you now? Am I not good enough for you?" He points at Fey, a fire in his eyes as he stares her down. "You care about her more than me, don't you?"

"Noa?" I'm snapped away from the conversation at hand as Roman raises an eyebrow at me questioningly. "You alright? What are you looking at?"

I take one last glance at Calico, who gives me a look that says 'don't you dare,' before I back to Roman.

"Nothing," I say, just barely spotting the time out of the corner of my eye.

The clock reads seven fifty-seven.

I instantly drop my fork onto my plate and push out my chair, ignoring the odd glances from Roman and Fey as I quickly brush past them and into the washroom.

After spending one minute and thirty-five seconds brushing my teeth, fifteen seconds washing my mouth, and five seconds double checking my teeth in the mirror, I exit the bathroom.

The clock reads seven fifty-nine.

As I exit Roman stares at me curiously for a few odd seconds before shrugging and letting out a sigh. "Alright, you two, time to get going. You got a big day of training today, most of the alliances are formed on the second day. So if you want to be in one, today is the day."

By the time he's finished speaking I'm already at the door of the elevator, the button pushed and doors opening just seconds later, with Fey quickly scurrying in after me after being lead along by Roman.

Just as the door is about to squeeze shut Calico makes a dash for the door, the glass sliding in front of him just inches in front of his face. A muffled shout comes from behind the door before he disappears from view, the innocent look of the red-headed six-year-old with freckles dotting his face being betrayed by his piercing grey eyes, gazing unnervingly after me, not so much as blinking as he disappears from sight.

Those same eyes that convinced me to tear open the walls of my bedroom. The same eyes that made me burn the only books my grandmother ever owned. Those devilish eyes that I should hate for constantly getting me into trouble. And I certainly used to hate them, there's no doubt about that. But time mends all wounds, and eventually I had to realize that even if he was a bad influence, he was my bad influence. Even if I enjoy any breaks I can get from him, I'm all that he's got, and there's no knowing where he would be without me to keep him out of too much trouble.

"Noa?" Fey snaps me out of the thoughts, staring up at me curiously.

"Sorry," I muster up apologetically, readjusting my hair shakily, tucking a few stray strands of hair back into its bun.

"You've been standing there for a while," she states simply, voice showing no signs of accusation or even curiosity, but instead just an unassailable factuality.

I glance across the training room and spot a clock on the wall.

The clock reads eight oh-three.

Oh. That was a while wasn't it?

"Ya, it was."

My eyes shoot open and I glance over at her. I didn't say that out loud, did I?

After a solid twenty seconds of staring at her analytically she finally shuffles her feet and speaks up, "what?"

"Nothing," I reply, shaking my head, chalking it up to not enough sleep. "C'mon, we're already late, why don't we go find a station to train at."

"We?" She asks, doing a poor job at containing the elation and thankfulness in her voice as she follows me out the door.

"Sure, we are partners after all," I reply in a simple voice, tucking a few more strands into the bun.

"Awesome!" She replies, unfazed by the un-returned enthusiasm. "C'mon, follow me!" She takes hold of my hand and gives a tug, earning a yelp from me as I tug back on reflex, a searing pain rushing through my finger tips and palms.

Her face drains of colors and she stammers out an apology, blanching even more once she sees the mangled, scarred remains of my hands. "I-I didn't kn-know."

"It's okay," I manage to force out halfheartedly, the burning pain in my hands not fading at all with time. Biting down on my lip to avoid any choice words from slipping from my lips in front of Fey, I clutch onto my left wrist with my good hand, desperately attempting to choke out the pain.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asks in nervous desperation.

"It's fine," I lie, "Why don't you just go to the pool like you wanted to and I'll go meet you there in a few minutes, okay?"

"O-Okay," she stammers out, taking one last sympathetic glance my way before turning and heading off to the large pool in the corner of the room, which is currently occupied by the kids from Five and Six, splashing around while the older boy from Six watches with the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

Quickly peeling myself away from the scene I scan the room for a washroom, and after spotting one begin making my way over to it, speeding up as I get closer to the point of barreling my way through the door as I reach it.

Once the door closes behind me I allow myself to let out a barrage of curse words, slamming into the sink basin, nearly crumbling over as I let a stream of water rush onto my hand, doing little to ease the pain physically, yet calming me down mentally enough to make it worthwhile.

"She did that on purpose, you know."

I don't even have to glance behind me to know who the voice belongs to. The same voice that convinced me to reach into that machine and mangle my hands in the first place.

"You do realize this is the girls washroom, right?" I retort, already anticipating the answer I'll be receiving.

"If you know what I'm gonna say then why do you ask me?"

My eyes narrow. "You know I hate when you do that."

"You didn't mind when Fey did it."

"She didn't do anything."

"Oh, of course she didn't. Nobody ever does anything but me, do they?" He's shouting now, just a few inches behind me, his breath on my neck as he pauses for a moment. "Everything's always my fault, isn't it?"

Any release from the pain in my hand is now gone, the searing hurt now blazing at its maximum. "Cal-"

"Just like how you blamed _you_ tearing up the wall on me, right?" I open my mouth to cut him off, but find no words coming out as I do so. "Th-the ticking! You heard it!" He's beside me now, pointing up at me in accusation, that devilish fire back in his eyes. "Every. Single. Minute. Of. Every. Waking. Day. Tick. Tick. Tick!"

He's grasping at his head now, a mute scream escaping his lips, eyes darting around the room like a wild animal before landing back on me. "B-but you stopped it! _We_ stopped it. They were trying to make us think we were _crazy_ ," he laughs at that, running his hands through his hair, his laughter cutting off suddenly as he looks up at me, a serious look plastered on his face. "B-but w-we, we know better than that. They can't trick us, can they?"

"Stop it!" I find myself screaming at the top of my lungs, hands clutching over my ears, desperate to block out the noise. Calico, the rushing water. . . . the _constant_ ticking. When did it start ticking? "Stop it! Stop it! **Stop it!** " I'm sobbing now, shaking my head furiously, banging my head against the counter. Desperate to do something, _anything_ , to stop the ticking. I can hear it now. The constant ticking that _never_ stops. Why won't it just **stop**!

"Noa," his voice comes back after a moments quiet, much calmer and somber now. "D-don't you care about me anymore?" He pouts at me, and I turn away, pushing further on my ears, shaking my head furiously, trying to do something, _anything_ , to dispel the thoughts from my head.

"Noa," he repeats again, no longer in accusation, but rather genuine concern. "Can't you hear it? Don't you wanna make it stop?"

"Hear what?" I stammer out, not dropping my guard, or my hands from my ears, as I gaze at him suspiciously.

"The ticking," he whispers, leaning in close to my ear, his breath tickling my earlobe. "The constant tick, always there. Never taking a break. Haunting you for every cellular second. Never letting you free of its grasp."

He steps back from me, staring at me in shock and anger. "Don't you hear it?!" He shouts, not in question but in pure, untamed rage. He takes another step back, the rage in his eyes suddenly replaced by the calamity and innocence that used to be his defining qualities. "Don't you want to make it stop?"

"Yes," I choke out between sobs, my hands shaking furiously, a dot of blood dropping into the water basin.

He takes one final step back, a giggle escaping his lips. "Then do it."

Just as the words slip from his lips the door swings open and I quickly bring down my hands from my head, my mind suddenly brought back into the physical world, aware of the intense pain in my hand again as I quickly rush it back under the steady stream of water.

Behind me the sound of footsteps on the tile flooring signals the approach of somebody and I glance down at my hands, avoiding having to look anyone in the eye, suddenly fully conscious of the tears swelling up in my eyes and dribbling down my cheeks.

The footsteps stop, yet I hear no stall door opening, nor another stream of water rushing. I stand still in front of the sink, the stream of water the only noise filling the empty air, the slightest tick barely audible in the distant background, growing louder every second. And louder, and louder, and louder. . . .

"Noa?" A timid voice of a child calls out from behind me. "I-is that you?"

I don't look up from the sink, staring into the blood-filled basin, my hand reaching up to my forehead, finding only a dry wound. My hand slowly drops down to my side, my head drooping down, landing softly on the same spot where I was just cut.

"Just?" He laughs, "You really have lost it, haven't you? Do me a favor, will you?" I can feel his breath on my neck again and I shudder involuntarily, my hand gripping onto the only thing in reach in a desperate attempt to stay grounded. To not lose myself in my thoughts again. They're just my thoughts! So why can't I make them stop? "Tell me," he whispers, giggling madly. "What does the clock read?"

I slam my eyes shut, unable to stop the shaking that runs through my body. My eyes peek open for a moment and for the first time I spot the clock in the corner of my vision, hung up on the wall.

I bring my hands up in front of me, nervously folding them around each other to slow the shaking. Hesitantly, carefully, I steel myself up, and force myself to peel my eyes away from the blood-stained basin, towards the wall.

The clock reads eleven twenty-four.

The ticking gets louder.

He giggles.

"Then do it."

"Shut up. Shut up! **Shut up!** "

My grip tightens on the bottle of soap, and I spin around, flinging it at the voice. Hoping, praying, that it will make it go away. Why won't it just go away?

The bottle smashes against the wall, a scream filling the air as it does, the soap exploding outwards, dripping to the floor.

Except it doesn't.

I blink.

It didn't stop the voice.

My knees buckle.

The ticking is still getting louder.

I fall to my knees.

It's getting so loud.

My hands are numb.

Why is it so loud?

I blink again.

Why won't it stop?

I can't breathe.

Why can't I breathe?

A tear rolls down my cheek.

Calico is quiet.

So quiet.

Why is it so quiet?

"Noa?"

It hasn't stopped.

A tear rolls down her cheek.

It never stopped.

"Noa?"

It never stops.

Her hands are shaking.

So why is it so quiet?

"Noa?"


	19. You're Gonna Go Far Kid

**Fiona Graham, 7, District 2**

 **Training Day 3, 12:09 AM**

 _~With a thousand lies  
And a good disguise_  
 _Hit 'em right between the eyes_  
 _Hit 'em right between the eyes_  
 _When you walk away_  
 _Nothing more to say_  
 _See the lightning in your eyes_  
 _See 'em running for their lives~_

Letting out a yawn, I take a sip from my soda, resting my head on the table in boredom. Glancing around the room, most of the other tributes seem to not be having that problem. Half of them are shaking nervously, and the other half are sitting in an awkward silence. Scared? Yes. Bored? No way. We'll just have to see if we can use the former to help out the latter.

At our table all of the Careers sit, with Aurum having just left for his Private Session, leaving the rest of the misfits alone. Alerio as stoic and quiet as ever, Celeana still a timid little girl that has no right to even be in the alliance, Marina uninterested and silent except for the occasional quip, and of course Glory being Glory. While Celeana has no right to be in the alliance, Glory flat out has no right to be so much as alive.

All she does is bicker with Aurum and I. Not to mention how much of a downer she is all of the time. I make a joke about one of the outer-district kids being dead meat and all she does is glare at me. Because apparently fun isn't aloud in the Hunger Games anymore, is it?

If only us two could switch partners, I'm sure both of us would enjoy it. I get to be with an actual Career, she gets to die in the Bloodbath with the Peacekeeper. Happy ending for everybody.

Looking around the room, most of the other tributes are either with their partner, or in the cases of the older kids from Five and Eight, by themselves(which considering the beating Five took, and the rumors of what Eight did to her partner, is unsurprising). The only tributes sitting in a group of more than two is the motley crew(the pair from Six and the two kids with weirdo partners), and the outer-district alliance of all the weaklings(because us Careers sure are scared of Twelve, Seven, and Ten allying up).

After looking around the room I finally manage to spot a target in the corner of the room. The older girl from Three leaves her terrified district partner alone, apparently tired of being annoyed by him. Hey, I can't blame her, kid really is annoying. He may be eleven, but he looks and acts like he's even younger than I am. I'll make sure to do her a favor and just end him in the bloodbath for both of their sakes. For now though I might as well have some fun with him.

Picking up my soda, I kick away from the table and walk over to the table where the boy(was it Lei?) is currently having a panic attack. He seems to not even notice me until I'm already next to him, pulling out a seat and kicking my feet up on the table.

"Hey there Three, how you doing?" I ask, taking a sip from my soda and flashing him a toothy smile.

He looks up at me, fear flashing in his eyes as he recognizes who I am, and he starts shaking even harder than before. "F-f-fine," he stutters out. "J-just a-a-a-a bit n-n-nervous."

"Oh, ya, that make sense," I offer kindly.

"R-really?"

"Of course," I giggle, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "After all, you are gonna die in two more days."

His face goes white, as the smallest hint of a smile that was on his lips disappears, and I can't help but giggle again. "Really is a shame that they got rid of the Interview prep day, I'm sure that extra day to be alive would of been nice." I take another sip of the soda and toss the half-full cup to him, shrugging. "Don't worry though, I'll make sure that it's fast." He begins to shake even harder than before, throwing the soda to the ground, and I give him another smile. "Well, for the most part at least."

"Hey, why don't you just leave him alone Fiona," a voice challenges from behind me. I don't even have to look back to know exactly who it is.

"Why don't you just mind your own business for once, Glory," I shoot back, pushing away from the table and turning to face her.

Our voices cut through the dead silence of the room, and immediately all eyes are on the two of us. Back at the Career table Alerio has already begun walking over to the two of us, while Marina just looks at us with a smirk on her lips.

"Alright, you two, just calm down," Alerio says calmly, putting a hand on each of our shoulders.

I immediately swat his hand away, glaring at him. "Why are you taking her side in this?"

"I'm not taking anyone's side."

"Yes you are!" I shout back. "You're my partner, you're supposed to be backing me up, but instead your always siding with her!"

 **"Glory Fairfax, please enter into the training room for your Individual Private Session."**

The voice blasts over the speakers, breaking the tension as Glory lets out a cough and mutters a few words to Rio, before turning to head to the training room.

"This isn't over, Glory!" I shout after her as she walks away.

"Fiona, just calm down, alright," Rio sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

I shove at his leg, my temper flaring as he doesn't seem to even so much as move an inch from it. "You just calm down!" I shout up at him, sending a flurry of hits towards his leg. "I hate you! I wish you would just die!"

"Alrighty," he replies tiredly, picking me up and setting me down a few feet away from him. "I think I'll just leave you alone to settle for a bit."

"Ya, better walk away," I mutter to myself, dropping angrily in my seat, arms folded over my chest.

I sit like that for what feels like forever, glaring down anybody that looks at me funny, waiting for Glory and Rio to hurry up already and let me get into my session, going over in my mind for the millionth time of exactly what to say and do while in there.

 **"Fiona Graham, please enter into the training room for your Individual Private Session."**

Popping onto my feet, a nervous shudder runs through my body, a grin sneaking onto my lips as my final idea of what to do forms in my head.

"Right through here," a Peacekeeper says to me, pointing towards the double doors.

Not wasting any time, I push through the door and into the room, bouncing in excitement as I make my way to the center of the room in front of where the Gamemakers are all seated, paying close attention to my every move.

"Fiona Graham?" The Head Gamemaker asks.

"The one and only," I reply, falling back to the words pa helped me come up with for my introduction.

"You have fifteen minutes to demonstrate your ability in whichever manner you choose. If you wish to showcase your talents against live opponents you may request a trainer. Your fifteen minutes starts now, you may begin."

"Thank you," I reply respectfully with a curtsy. "But I'd like to ask you a question if I can."

"You may," he answers.

"Great," I say excitedly, rubbing my hands together. "Because I have a plan that I bet you guys'll love."

"Then let's hear it, shall we?"

"You guys just saw my District partner Alerio and my _friend_ Glory, right?"

"Correct."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I don't really like them. I _do_ like Aurum though, and think he would be a much better ally for me than Alerio."

"And what exactly do you propose?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, obviously interested.

A devilish smile forms on my lips, and I shrug. "Not much. Just switch me and Glory. Make Aurum my partner, and Alerio hers. Easy as pie."

"I see, that way you get to be with your preferred ally, and so does Glory."

"We-ell," I drawl, "I think it would work better if you _didn't_ tell Glory and Alerio about the switch." My mind wanders back to a saying that ma used to tell me and I smirk, stuffing my hands in my pocket. "If you catch my drift."

This earns a laugh from the crowd of Gamemakers, and even the Head Gamemaker gives a slight smile smile.

"Well, this has been an enlightening conversation Ms. Graham, we will consider your request. Would you like to display any skills outside of your planned deception today?"

I shrug. "You guys have already seen what I can do."

"Most definitely," He murmurs, shuffling some papers. "Now, before you leave, just one quick question. If you had to elect a leader for your alliance, who would it be? For the record, so far the votes are: one for Aurum, one for Alerio, one for a 'democratic leadership.'"

Rolling my eyes, I force an innocent look onto my face, batting my eyelashes and giving a timid smile, mustering up my most childish voice and biggest puppy eyes. "Oh, well _of course_ I would have to elect Aurum. He's _soo_ smart, he knows _everything_ that's going on in our alliance." I drop the smile and pick at my fingernails, lowering my voice. "I mean, who else would be the leader?"

This earns another few chuckles, and the Head Gamemaker nods his head at me. "It was a pleasure, Ms. Graham. You are excused."

"The pleasure was all mine," I say sweetly, flashing a smile and giving another curtsy before heading out the training room, cocky grin still stuck on my lips.

Let the games begin.

* * *

 **A/N: So author notes on the end now because all the cool kids do that nowadays so why not. So here we get to explore the _lovely_ Fiona Graham. Huge thanks to MysticalPineForest for letting me write her, I hope I did her justice! A bit shorter of a chapter due to me having a busy week and me hurrying to finish this before the weekend ends. Also, just to clarify something about last chapter that may help you guys piece together what happened at the end there, there were no changes in the speaker, it was all in first-person. I'll let you guys try to figure the rest out :P**

 **Trivia(1 point) : Last time the answer was that despite being six years old, Calico was described to be breathing on the back of Noa. Sadly nobody got that one, but a much easier one this time, because there is no wrong answer(yay!)**

 **Do you think the Gamemakers will decide to go through with Fiona's request?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Careers:** Aurum, Glory, Alerio, Fiona, Marina, Celeana

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara, Felicity

 **The Kids Are Alright:** Kieran, Spark, Oake, Mabel, Dakota, Nova

 **Since We Have To:** Alt, Lei

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak

 **Since We Have To V2:** Shadow, Amandine

 **Loners:** Fox, Noa


	20. Sing For The Moment

**Armand "Armie" Machina, 5, District 5**

 **Training Day 3, 7:51 PM**

 _~(C'mon), Sing with me, sing for the years,_

 _Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears,_

 _Sing it with me, just for today,_

 _Maybe tomorrow the good Lord'll take you away...~_

"I just feel so stupid," Amara moans, planting her forehead into the silver walls of the elevator.

Zarach and I both glance at each other, neither of us having any idea what to do or say to her. Scratching the back of my head, I look pleadingly at Zarach, who offers up a sigh before walking over to Amara and awkwardly giving her a light pat on the back.

"C'mon now," he says gruffly, "don't get worried about it, you haven't even seen what your score is yet."

"Ya, but I know what I'm gonna get," Amara murmurs into the wall. "I just sat there and cried like a baby."

"Amara, I don't care what score you got, and I don't think anybody else will either."

"Ya," I quickly add, rubbing the back of my neck "I mean, I bet I got like, a zero."

Amara giggles at that, sniffling and wiping her eyes as the elevator pulls to a stop at the District Five floor. "You really think it doesn't matter?"

"I promise," Zarach replies, his voice much softer.

"Okay," she says quietly, her lips forming into a smile as she turns away from the wall. Her eyes land on me and she laughs, biting her lip to suppress it. "I bet you a. . . . chocolate bar that you scored higher than me though."

"Deal," I say, offering up my hand for a handshake, causing another wave of giggles from Amara as she makes an unsuccessful attempt to keep a straight face as she accepts the handshake.

"A pleasure doing business Mr. Armie," she replies in her deepest voice, causing another fit of laughter from both of us.

"Hey," Zarach offers up, a smile creeping onto his lips. "Any chance I can get in on this bet? I think could go for some chocolate."

Amara hits Zarach's leg jokingly, rolling her eyes as I giggle uncontrollably. "So, didn't you just say that we _had_ to get going because the scores were gonna go on _any_ minute?"

Zarach rolls his eyes, ruffling Amara's hair as he steps out of the elevator, the two of us following closely after as my laughter slowly begins to die down.

We enter into the living room of the D5 floor, and a quick look at the clock says that it's already 7:53, which means the scores will start being shown in just a few minutes.

The three of all take a seat on the couch in front of the television to wait for the scores to start, snacking on the chips and pizza that's been set up for us. All the while Amara teases Zarach relentlessly, with him returning fire to the point that my belly starts to hurt from laughing so much.

The elevator dings, and all of us cut off our conversation, my last giggles dying as we all look over to the entrance to see who else could be coming to the floor.

"Maybe Fey convinced her escort to let her come with us to see the scores?" Amara questions excitedly.

Our question is answered as my mentor Audra steps through the doorway, smiling at me kindly as she spots Amara and Zarach seated next to me. "Hi Armie, are you and your friends getting ready to watch the scores?"

I nod my head, and to my left Amara waves to her, while Zarach just nods tensely.

"So you two must be Zarach and Amara then, right?" Audra questions, still hanging by the doorway. "Armie has been telling me about you, a pleasure to finally meet the two of you."

Amara giggles at the comment as my cheeks flush red, while Zarach shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "So you're the D5 mentor?"

Audra nods. "Yup, me and the old sot Caleb, at least when he's not **hung over in bed all day** **!"** She raises her voice to a shout for the last part, with an unintelligible return coming from one of the bedrooms down the hall.

She rolls her eyes in return, and I snicker as a smile creeps onto Audra's lips.

"So," Zarach interjects suddenly, "are you Armie's mentor then, or. . . ."

"Yup, I got Armie and Caleb has Fox."

Zarach visibly relaxes, but before Audra can question him on it a buzzing sound goes off from her pocket, and she leaves the room, mentioning something about having to take a call.

Once Audra leaves, Zarach immediately picks up a pen and a notebook off the table and begins to focus on the television, where the scores are just about to be revealed.

Amara looks at him warily, grabbing a chip and popping it into her mouth as her eyes narrow, trying to figure out the sudden change in behavior in her district partner.

On the screen the interviewer, an older man named Apollo Thompson, is getting ready to reveal the scores, telling the audience what all the different scores mean. Just before the actual reveal starts Audra pops her head in through the doorway, and tells us that she's going to go down to the lobby and will be right back, leaving us alone again as the scores start.

 **First up, from District One, the young Glory Fairfax with a score of. . . . five.**

"Wow," Zarach exclaims, looking surprised as he jots something down in the notebook.

"I wish I could get that high of a score," Amara mutters.

Zarach pats her on the shoulder, features warming up as he offers up a smile. "Hey, don't worry about it, she _is_ two years older than you, ya know."

"And a Career," I add, remembering the word Zarach used to describe the alliance of all the kids from District 1, 2, and 4.

"I guess," Amara says quietly.

 **Next, the self-proclaimed "golden boy" of District One, Aurum Lark, with a score of. . . . nine.**

"Just don't worry about it," Zarach replies.

"Ya, I mean, I didn't ally with you cuz I thought you were gonna score high, I allied with you cuz you were nice." My face is red as I finish speaking, and she blushes too, looking towards the ground, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Thanks, Armie," she says softly.

 **From District Two, the enthusiastic young Career, Fiona Graham, with a score of. . . . four.**

Zarach chuckles, shaking his head. "I'm sure she'll love getting one point lower than Glory."

I look over at him confused for a second, before my mind goes back to earlier today, with the argument between the two before the Private Sessions.

"Ya," Amara says, giggles breaking up her voice, "I bet she's super happy right now."

 **And the stoic Peacekeeper from District Two, Alerio Weissman, with a score of. . . . nine.**

Amara's giggling continues, and I can't help but join myself, as Zarach just rolls his eyes, scribbling furiously in his notebook. "I'd pay to see how Aurum is dealing with that one," he says, just sending the two of us into more laughter at the mental image of the hothead from training screaming at the mute boy from Two.

 **From the electronics District, the excitable Lei Park, with a score of. . . . three.**

"Surprised he managed to even get that high," Zarach says.

"I'm not," I say, finally managing to cut my laughter off, "I ran with him at one of the stations, and he was really fast."

"If being fast gets you a high score, I bet you got a twelve, and then you'll owe me that chocolate bar," Amara teases, stifling her laughter.

"I'm not _that_ fast," I reply.

"You're faster than me," she says.

"That's not saying much," Zarach interrupts, popping a chip into his mouth. Amara glares at him while I do my best to suppress my laughter.

 **And also from District Three, the mysterious Alt Lovelace, with a score of. . . . seven.**

"I thought she was more dangerous than she looked," Zarach mutters to himself.

"She's the girl who kept on staring at us without saying anything, right?" Amara asks.

"Yup," Zarach confirms.

 **From everybody's favorite fishing District, the tiny Celaena Reynar, with a score of. . . . two.**

"She seemed nice," I say. "It's too bad she had to ally with the Careers."

Nobody else says anything after that, Zarach keeping his head in his notebook while Amara grabs her second slice of pizza of the night.

 **And the second tribute from District Four, the lovely Marina Rivera, with a score of. . . . eight.**

As Amara takes a large bite of her pizza, Zarach chuckles, shaking his head. "Somebody has an appetite today, this _and_ the sandwich a few hours ago? I don't think I've ever seen you eat so much."

In response Amara punches Zarach in the shoulder lightly, not bothering to try to talk back with her mouth full, instead settling for an over-exaggerated warning glare at him.

My stomach twists as I realize that I'm up next, though I quickly settle myself down, reminding myself of what I told Amara earlier. My score doesn't matter at all, nobody is going to care.

 **From District Five, the young Armand Machina, with a score of. . . . two.**

"Heyyy!" Amara exclaims, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Who just got the same score as a Career a year older than him?"

"Barely a year," I reply embarrassed. "And it's still not a twelve."

"Hey, I got the two part right, didn't I? And you still don't turn six for a whole 'nother two months, so I'd say you can say you're still a year away."

I roll my eyes. "Ya, whatever."

 **Also from District Five, the dashing Fox King, with a score of. . . . five.**

Nobody says anything, all of us sitting in an awkward silence as we wait for Amara's score to be revealed.

 **From the transportation District, the adorable Amara Ekkal, with a score of. . . . one.**

Letting out a whoop, she giggle madly at me. "Guess who owes me a chocolate bar?"

"Guess who got the same score as a Career?" I reply, voice broken up with laughter.

"Guess who's the _adorable_ Amara?" She responds giddily.

"Glad to see you're not taking it too harshly," the voice of Audra calls from the doorway.

"Armie got the same score as a _Career,_ so I think we're doing pretty good so far," Amara replies jokingly.

"Great to hear," Audra responds amusedly.

 **And her partner from District Six, the intimidating Zarach Eleazor, with a score of. . . . eight.**

"Intimidating?" Zarach asks, mocking offense.

Amara hits Zarach in the shoulder, keeping her other arm wrapped around me still as she goes on the offensive against him. "Who cares about that, you got an eight! That's the same score as the girl from Four!" She pauses for a moment, thinking something over in her head. "We _are_ District Four!"

I giggle at the thought, and Zarach chuckles, shaking his head. "With how much time you guys have spent swimming I don't think it would be that far-fetched."

 **From the lumber District, the electric Boaz Ash, with a score of. . . . four.**

Amara facepalms. "Ugh, that's what I should have done! I could have swam!"

"Huh, I kind of forgot about that too," I admit.

"How could you guys of forgot?" Zarach asks incredulously. "You guys only spent about half of training there."

Amara and I both glance at each other, before looking back to Zarach and shrugging.

 **From District Seven, the towering Kieran Colton, with a score of. . . . five.**

"Fey is up next," Amara comments. "I wonder what she got."

"She was the best swimmer out of all of us," I say, "I bet she got the highest."

 **Moving on to District Eight, the sweet Felicity Cardin, with a score of. . . two.**

"Well, higher than me anyways," Amara shrugs.

"Not saying much," I tease lightheartedly, earning a sharp glare from Amara, and a light hit in the shoulder.

"You sure do like hitting us," Zarach jokes.

"You guys sure like saying things to deserve it," Amara shoots back, a silly grin on her face as she fakes a punch at Zarach's shoulder.

 **And her district partner, the enigmatic Noa Jacquard, with a score of. . . four.**

"What's enigmatic mean?" I ask.

Zarach and Amara both shrug, though from behind us Audra responds with the answer, "It means mysterious."

"I'd agree with that," Amara says. "She always was kind of confusing."

"That's an understatement," Zarach mutters under his breathe.

 **From the golden hills of District Nine, little Izaak Ackerman, with a score of. . . . four.**

"Woah," I exclaim. "He got as high as the girl from Two!"

"And he's a year younger," Amara adds. "I wonder what he did."

Shrugging, the two of us look over to Zarach, who looks just as lost as us. "I don't know guys, guess we'll have to wait and find out tomorrow."

I blink, the sudden realization of what tomorrow is hitting me.

"Oh ya," Amara says, reaching the same conclusion just as I do. "The interviews are tomorrow, aren't they?"

 **Also from District Nine, the underdog Otto Baxter, with a score of. . . . four.**

"Yup," Audra answers. "Which is why once this is over you guys all gotta get to bed to get a good nights rest. The interviews have been extended from three to five minutes this year, which means they're gonna start at 4:30 and go until around 7:00. Factoring in time for the stylists and prep team, we're only gonna have until noon to do any sort of prep for what your angle will be."

Letting out a yawn, I stretch out my arms. "I don't mind," I yawn out. "I'm tired anyways."

 **From District Ten, the fierce Mabel Beech, with a score of. . . . five.**

"Huh, maybe that girl's alliance won't be so bad after-all," Zarach comments.

"What alliance?" Audra asks curiously, taking a seat to the left of me on the couch.

"Girl from Ten asked literally everybody to join an alliance with her, managed to convince the pair from Twelve to join and the older guy from Seven kinda just didn't care," Zarach explains.

 **And everybody's favorite brave boy from Ten, Oake Sinclair, with a score of. . . . five.**

"And they asked you guys' too?"

Zarach shakes his head.

"Why not?"

Zarach searches for an answer, but before he can offer anything up, Amara cuts in. "Well, they don't calm him "the intimidating Zarach Eleazor" for nothing," she giggles out.

Audra rolls her eyes. "I won't even ask."

 **From the eleventh district, the lovely Amandine Corra, with a score of. . . . two.**

"Hey, you guys got a club going," Amara teases.

"Ya, too bad you can't join," I joke back.

"I got something even better, how many people get to say that they're number one?"

"Only one I think," Zarach interjects.

"Exactly."

 **Also representing the agriculture district, the analytical Shade Reinfield, with a score of. . . . six.**

"Wow, Zarach," Audra exclaims, "looks like you're gonna have the highest non-Career score."

"Looks like it," Zarach responds sheepishly.

 **From the coal district, the handsome Nova Whipp, with a score of. . . . one.**

"Awww," Amara fake pouts, wiping a few fake tears from her eyes. "I thought I was special."

Zarach ruffles her hair, muttering something under his breathe.

 **And finally, last but not least, the heroic Dakota Marshall, with a score of. . . . six.**

Amara stretches out her arms, and no longer trapped in by her death grip I stand up, stretching out myself.

"Well," Amara yawns, "I'm gonna hit the hay, 'night Armie."

"Ya," I respond, waving as her and Zarach head off towards the elevator to get back to their floor, "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

 **A/N: There we are with the scores reveal! Not a ton happening this chapter, just some cheeky banter before we get into the interviews next chapter! The interviews will be split into 3 parts, and each one will be pretty long, with every tribute getting a full length interview.**

 **Just would like to take a moment to thank everybody so much for helping me not only hit 100 reviews last chapter, but blow right past it. Your guys' support means the world to me, and I'm super excited for us to start getting into the games so I can reveal some of the plans I've had in mind for a while to you guys. But for now make sure to let me know what you guys think of my writing, and of Armie, Amara, and Zarach as they make their second appearance!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Most surprising score/biggest impression you got?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Careers:** Aurum, Glory, Alerio, Fiona, Marina, Celeana

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara, Felicity

 **The Kids Are Alright:** Kieran, Spark, Oake, Mabel, Dakota, Nova

 **Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei, Fox

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine

 **Loners:** Noa :(


	21. Lose Yourself Pt 1

**A/N: A few important notes for the interviews. One: there's no interview prep anymore(starting this year), to get "more authentic answers" out of tributes, Two: Training Academies are no longer illegal, so Careers can talk about training freely, Three: there's no set time for interviews anymore, instead it's just 2-5 minutes roughly, with the interview ending whenever the interviewer sees an organic ending opportunity, or things start to trail off to some dangerous territory(my in-canon excuse for differences in POV lengths :P). Also, just a warning for something I'm sure you guys have noticed already: this chapter is long AF. There's a reason I split this into 3 parts rofl.**

* * *

 **Apollo Thompson, 44, Hunger Games Interviewer**

 _~Look  
_ _If you had  
_ _One shot  
_ _Or one opportunity  
_ _To seize everything you ever wanted  
_ _In one moment  
_ _Would you capture it  
_ _Or just let it slip?~_

"Mr. Thompson, the mentor notes are here for you to review." My assistant, a young woman who's name I can't be bothered to remember, says as she peeks her head through the door of my study.

"Thank you, just go ahead and leave them on my desk, I'll look over them once I finish up reading through my prep sheet."

She nods politely in my direction, setting the thin stack of papers on my desk and promptly leaving, sliding the door shut behind her.

Once she's gone I turn my attention back to the prep sheet. On it is all of the basic, important information about tributes that I should bring up during the interviews. The obvious things that need to be talked about like Alt getting a seven in her session, Noa's weird reaping, and Alerio's experience at the Peacekeeper Academy. On top of that is the things to avoid talking about, which this year is just Lei's grandma spearheading a failed effort to exempt Lei from the games due to his autism.

It only takes a minute to brush past it, mostly because it's mostly just the obvious things that, while helpful for a new interviewer, are a bit redundant for someone on their 26th year.

26 years. It's crazy to think I've been doing this for that long. Over half my life I've been an interviewer; now that's weird to think about.

I quickly shake off the thought, refocusing myself on the task at hand. Plenty of time to think about how horribly I've wasted my adulthood with this crap once I'm actually done. Just finish these last games and you're home free. Besides, it isn't like wasting years of my life is anything new.

With a rekindled energy, I glance over at the mentor's notes. In a normal year these would be pretty thin, with most tributes not having too much special about them that needs to be brought up, but this year there seems to be quite a lot here. Makes sense considering the twist. When you're interviewing a six-year-old you're gonna have to work to get answers out of them.

I pick up the stack and start at the top with the first tribute, Glory Fairfax. Nine years old, has been in the academy for a few years now, seems fairly mature, and is of course the little sister to Concord Fairfax from two years ago. You couldn't ask for an easier tribute to start things off with. The only problem that we might have is that she's gonna overshadow Aurum, who's file is frankly typical in comparison.

District Two has no such problem, with both tributes having plenty to talk about. Fiona is already drawing massive popularity due to her enthusiasm despite her young age, and Alerio is in contention for one of the most popular tributes ever. If there's one thing Capitolites love more than an enthusiastic career, it's a Peacekeeper, a stoic guardian of peace in Panem. Out not for fame or glory(I make a quick mental note to myself to make a pun about that), but just to make the world a better place.

Alt and Lei are an interesting pair, and the one that I'm least sure of going into. I'm just thankful they come sandwiched in between the sure career districts. The only info I have on the two is that Alt's mentor wants me to call her Ace, and that I should be careful when talking with Lei. Thanks Dalton, helpful as always.

After that, most of the tributes don't have too much that stands out about them. Mostly just basic things like having stage fright, being socially awkward, having a bad sense of humor, all that lovely stuff. Despite that, however, there are a few notable pieces of information that stick out.

Marina is a top of her class career despite being reaped, Fox's dad helped design some mutts-one of which may be used this year, Zarach was the one that gave Fox a black eye, and has allied with both Armie and Fey. Noa has paranoid schizophrenia, and Dakota may(in the exact words of Tristan) 'have some sort of hero complex stemming from issues in her childhood.'

The door creaks open and my assistant pokes her head through. "Are you ready for makeup Mr. Thompson?"

I lean back in my chair, rub my eyes, and close them. "Yes, I'll be out in just a moment, thank you."

Once I hear the door close, I let out a deep sigh and toss the papers on my desk, not minding that they spread out messily.

Just one more year Apollo.

One more god-forsaken year.

* * *

 **Glory Fairfax, 9, District 1**

I fold my hands, letting them hang by my waist as I patiently wait for the beginning of the interviews. Behind me Aurum and Fiona are chatting away about how excited they are for the games while Alerio stands at attention, looking into seemingly nothing, perfectly patient and unflinching as he waits for his turn. I wish I could look as convincing as him.

That being said, looking past him and back towards the outliers makes me feel a bit better about myself, seeing as most of them are visibly shaking and profusely sweating. Much worse than a jittery foot that I can't stop tapping.

Back on stage Apollo has been talking with the Capitol for a minute now, hyping up the excitement of the quell. He finishes his speech with news that he's decided to continue tradition and retire after this year, earning a disappointed groan from the audience. As soon as it starts he stops it, however, encouraging them to instead look forward to this years batch of tributes.

"And of course," he starts, his voice now gaining back his original enthusiasm. "We couldn't pick a better tribute to start tonight off, as we will be joined by the lovely Glory Fairfax of District One!"

A roar comes up from the crowd, and it takes me a second to comprehend everything before I manage to get my feet to start moving out towards the stage.

The walk is much longer than it looked, and it feels like it takes over a minute to walk across the open stage and over to Apollo, where he's waiting, crouching to be at my height, mouth plastered with a grin and an outstretched hand at his side.

I force a slight smile onto my lips, and quickly unfold my hand and extend it for a handshake, anxious to make sure nobody sees the slight shake in my hands.

Apollo takes my hand and gives me a quick squeeze, winking at me with his left eye so the crowd doesn't see it. A genuine smile slides onto my lips and I barely suppress a giggle.

The two of us take a seat on the large white swirly chairs, nearly getting swallowed up as I fall into the seat, my legs hanging just over the edge.

Apollo chuckles and shakes his head. "You look awful comfy there Glory."

"Extremely," I reply, giggling as I do so.

The crowd lets out a laugh and Apollo joins them, shaking his head. "So, speaking of being comfortable, I would say it's pretty safe to say that you and Aurum are looking pretty comfy in terms of odds. How do you feel your chances of winning are right now?"

I can't help the jolt that runs through my bones at the mention of the games, but quickly let out a deep breathe, hoping that nobody noticed my reaction. Instead I go back to the rehearsed response that Helix drilled into my brain for this question. "Well," I start, twirling a strand of my hair in my fingers to let out some of my jitters. "I-" my voice cuts off, and I find myself searching for the words, mind going blank as I can feel an uncomfortable silence falling over the stage.

My face goes beet red, and I look over to Apollo desperately, my mind suddenly unable to form any coherent thoughts. In response he just smiles back warmly. "Nervous?" He asks softly.

"Ya," I respond meekly, offering a nervous smile, my thoughts racing so fast that I don't even care that I'm doing everything Helix told me not to. With being at the academy, and having to pretend to be as strong as my siblings are being, and now with the Careers. . . . It's been so long since I've been able to be honest with somebody. Since I've been able to admit that I'm scared.

He seems to understand this unspoken revelation, reaching over and patting me on the knee. "I think anyone could agree that it's perfectly reasonable to be nervous," he says reassuringly, before leaning back and raising his voice. "But if anybody has any reason not to, it certainly would be you and your district partner, considering your incredible _One to Three_ odds currently, meaning you and Aurum have the highest odds of anyone."

A cheer comes up from the crowd, but I ignore it, glancing down at my shoes. "So did Concord." The words slip from my mouth in a murmur, and my cheeks flush as I realize I said it out loud, mentally hitting myself for being such a sniveling baby in my one chance to win over the Capitol. I wonder what mom and dad are thinking back home right now. Probably ashamed that I'm embarrassing them so badly.

But out of all the responses I expected, the one I expected the least was certainly a sympathetic "Awww," to come from the crowd in waves. My eyes go wide as they shoot up, unable to keep the surprise out of my features at the empathetic reply from the audience.

Apollo gives a slight smile to me, before turning to face the crowd with a grave expression. "Yes, for those of who don't know, Glory is the daughter of the late Concord Fairfax, the District One male in the 98th Hunger Games who, sadly, finished in second place to Audra Lee of District Five."

A spotlight shines into the audience, and after a moment settles towards the front row, revealing the victor of Concord's games, a normal looking girl with a blank expression on her face, not even seeming to notice the spotlight on her. A cheer comes up from the crowd, and she snaps back into reality, glancing around nervously, leaning back into her seat and giving an awkward wave before the spotlight turns off and the cheering dies down.

My fists clench by my sides, and my features drop, a frown forming on my lips as any good thoughts of the Capitol dissipate in an instant. Apollo, seemingly not noticing(or more likely just ignoring) the sharp glare that's set on my face, continues with the questioning, coughing into his fist as he turns to face me again.

"So, Glory, we've had a few tributes over the years that have lost family to the games, and it's always fascinating to hear how it's impacted them. Most often we see it in the form of volunteers who are driven to avenge their loved one, but I feel you may have a different experience than them?"

My features soften, the glare dissipating as I stare out into nothingness. "I miss him," I admit shakily, my voice cracking as I speak, tears forming in my eyes and threatening to spill over. "He would always. . . . " I trail off, glancing to the ground, a slight smile appearing on my lips. "He would always joke around, make me feel better whenever I was sad." A memory pops up in my mind and I giggle, shaking my head slightly, a tear dripping to the floor. "I remember one day, a few kids were picking on me at the academy, and when I got home I didn't talk to anyone, I just went straight to my room and cried. And Concord-" I barely choke out the name, wincing as I do so. "Concord came in and he talked with me, and when I told him why I was so sad, he told me. . . ." I shut my eyes, going back to the words that he spoke to me that day. "He told me that it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks of me. Because he was proud of me, and that no matter what anyone else thought, he would always love me." My voice cracks, and the next words come in just barely above a whisper. "I just want my brother back."

It takes me what feels like a full minute to steel myself to look back up from the ground, and when I finally glance over at Apollo, I see him looking back, a sympathetic expression as he offers a reassuring smile. "Well," his voice comes out softly, "I'm sure that if he were here he would be proud of you." He turns back to the crowd, standing up from his seat. He reaches over and gently grabs my hand, helping me onto my feet. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, bringing my arm into the air. "Glory Fairfax!"

A deafening roar comes from the crowd, and I nearly bring up my hands to my ears to block the loudness. A rumbling comes from the crowd that shakes the stage, and Apollo chuckles, quietly congratulating me. I attempt to offer a smile back, but instead just stand frozen, gazing slack-jawed out into the audience, all chanting my name.

I stand like that for what feels like forever before finally I turn away, and walk off stage. My mind is still spinning, the world feeling like its pounding with each step I take, until I step off stage, and collapse against the wall, expecting myself to give in and let the tears fall. But instead, I stay standing, staring into nothing, mind racing, yet feeling blissfully numb.

 **Aurum Lark, 18, District 1**

I jump up once, shaking out any last minute jitters out of my body, a grin forming on my lips naturally. This is it. The moment I've dreamed of my whole life. The day where the Capitol meets their newest victor.

On stage Glory is slowly making her way off, still looking in shock. I have to admit, she did pretty darn well. If I didn't know any better I would say she overnight got really intelligent and competent, but in reality she's still weak as ever. But of course, a nine-year-old being weak is tear-jerking and sympathetic, so it worked out in the end well enough to earn us our fair share of sponsors.

"And up next," Apollo shouts into the crowd enthusiastically, "Our resident 'golden boy,' ladies and gentlemen put your hands together for Aurum Lark!"

As soon as my name slips from his lips my feet are in action, striding across the stage, my golden suit shining brightly as I wave out to the crowd, even blowing a kiss and giving a wink that drives the crowd crazy.

In just moments my walk is over though, and I'm face to face with Apollo Thompson, his arm extended for a handshake which I take, giving a quick pump of the hand before taking my seat opposite of him.

"Pleasure to meet you Aurum," Apollo starts simply.

"The pleasure is all mine," I reply politely. "Being here in the Capitol is an amazing experience, and I can only hope it won't be a once in a lifetime one."

A chuckle rises from the crowd, as well as a few words of encouragement scattered in between. Apollo joins in with the laughter, shaking his head. "Witty, I like you," he says between laughs.

"Most people do," I respond with a cheeky grin, "though I think I can name twenty-two people who don't."

This earns another, this time much louder laugh from the audience, with Apollo giving a low whistle. "Them be fighting words," Apollo drawls, successfully keeping the laughter going.

"Well, some people may call me cocky, but it's hard not to be confident when nobody's ever proven my confidence in myself to be wrong. You see, the Games, they're all about making the Odds Forever In Your Favor, and unlike most, I can do that."

A roar comes up from the crowd, shaking the stage as they stomped their feet, the cheers drowning out any specific things being said. Apollo grins and slaps me on the back. "Well confidence is half the battle, and you certainly seem to have the skill to back it up based on your training score. But, as we all know, this year is a quell, which means you're tethered to your district partner, Glory." He pauses for a moment, allowing the info to sink in, before continuing to the question. "So, with that in mind, how do you feel your odds are with Glory as your partner?"

Resisting the urge to bash her on her complete worthlessness and my need to drag her to the finish line, I instead give the audience a warm smile and the words they want to hear. "Well, while the twist certainly makes it difficult, I couldn't be more confident in who my partner is. Glory is extremely capable, as I'm sure you guys all know based on her score she got." I shrug, giving a sly grin. "And based on the odds, you guys apparently agree with me."

Apollo nods his head, turning to face the crowd. "What do you think, do you guys agree with him or no?"

In response an overwhelming round of hoots and hollers explodes from the audience, and Apollo laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Well I think that answers that question. "So," he switches topics, "you have the skill, you have the confidence, I'm sure all of us would love to hear what your motivation has been. What's driven you to decide to volunteer?"

"Tons of things," I reply honestly. "First and foremost I want to bring pride to not only my District, but Panem as a whole, by winning these games. But on top of that, I'm doing this to prove to everyone that you can do anything you set your mind to. I just think of my little brother watching me back home, and I can't help but want to show him that all of the hard work and dedication I've put in my whole life will let me win, and that he can do the same as me one day too."

"Well, I wish you best of luck in proving that theory correct, and hope that I'll get the pleasure to interview you and your lovely partner again soon."

"I look forward to it."

"Ladies and gentlemen," he thrusts my arm into the air. "Aurum Lark!"

An explosion comes from the audience, and I holler out as well, pumping my free fist into the air. I stay like that for a few moments, soaking in the waves of adoration coming from all of my fans, before turning and promptly walking away, the cheering not dying until I'm long off stage.

 **Fiona Graham, 7, District 2**

As Aurum makes his way off stage a smile forms on my lips, ready to finally get my interviews underway. If I would have had to send another minute waiting next to Mr. I-have-no-voice and that annoying spazy kid from Three I might have had to actually kill somebody. But as it is I think I can afford to wait another day. The smile widens at that thought, and I feel giddy at the idea of soon being in the arena, taking the title of youngest victor forever.

"And next up, put your hands together for our young, enthusiastic Career, Fiona Graham of District Two!" By the time he's even halfway done with his introduction I'm already on my way out, skipping across the stage and fluttering my eyelashes, being the sweet, cute little girl that everybody expects me to be.

Giving a curtsy to Apollo, which is returned in kind with a bow, I take Apollo's hand, allowing him to help me get seated. "So," he starts, settling into his seat, "how are you enjoying the Capitol so far Fiona?"

"I _love_ it," I respond honestly. "It's everything that I ever dreamt of."

"So you have had aspirations to visit the Capitol before?" Apollo inquires, leaning forward in his seat.

I pretend to act embarrassed, my cheeks turning a peachy rose. "I mean. . . . it's silly."

"I'm sure it isn't," Apollo counters. "C'mon, we'd all love to hear what you have to say."

"Well, I know it's kind of _dumb,_ but I've always had this dream," I pause for a moment, glancing down a my shoes. "I've always wanted to live in the Capitol and be a stylist, though I guess I can't do that anymore," I add meekly, only half lying. I really have always dreamt of being a stylist, though now I won't be doing that. Not because I'll be dying in the games or anything(though it doesn't hurt anybody for everyone to think that's what I meant when I said that), but because I'll be too busy being the newest mentor for District Two.

"Well, I'm sure I speak for almost everyone when I say that I hope that you get the chance to fulfill your dreams after the games."

I ease up on the nervousness, visibly relaxing as I offer a weak smile. "I hope so too," I squeak out.

The crowd seems to eat up the answer, an audible "awww" running through the audience as I avert my gaze back down to my shoes. "Well," Apollo says, "based on your impressive score of a _four,_ you sure are looking to have a good chance, wouldn't you say folks?"

A barrage of whistling and cheers come from the crowd, and a shy smile appears on my lips, and I let out a quick giggle, turning to face Apollo. "Thanks," I say quietly.

Apollo just smiles in return, moving on to the next question. "So, Fiona, can you tell us a bit about your life back home?"

I shrug, twiddling my thumbs. "I don't know, I mean- I really love the Capitol, but I still kind of miss home. I know ma and pa are probably missing me as much as I'm missing them, and I wish I could just hang out with Febia, Freya, Gabby, and Vesta. I wish they could all be here with me right now."

"Your sisters?"

"Febia and Freya are," I respond. "Gabby and Vesta are my friends from school." I make sure to be careful to say school, instead of mentioning the academy. Right now the Capitol sees me as an innocent little kid, because while they expect tributes to be happy about going into the games, they don't find it so adorable to be training for them.

"Well, hopefully you get to be reunited with them soon."

"Hopefully."

"Ladies and gentlemen," I allow Apollo to take my hand, lifting me out of the seat, giving a curtsy to the crowd as soon as I'm on my feet. "Fiona Graham!"

The applause begins immediately, a wave of adoration being sent my way, my cheeks flushing red, mouth hanging in 'surprise' at the display. As much as I want to stay in this single moment, the cheers begin to die down slightly, and I take it as my cue to leave, giving a last curtsy before turning and taking my leave. As soon as I'm out of site behind the curtains back stage I drop the act, though that silly grin still stays firmly in place, head spinning as a flow of pure giddiness rushes through my veins.

One more day.

 **Alerio Weissman, 18, District 2**

I stand at attention, waiting calmly with my hands folded behind my back, my face devoid of any emotion. Despite my outward appearance, my insides are curling, my mind screaming at me to keel over, to tap my foot anxiously, to run to the back of the line and not go out on stage.

But I ignore the voice, not letting it get the best of me. I've learned how to ignore it, and I can only be immensely grateful for that as Fiona skips off stage, leaving me just seconds away from stepping out into the limelight. Where every single person in all of Panem will all be watching me. Judging me.

"And now, the Peacekeeper in training, Alerio Weissman!"

As soon as my name is spoken I step out, taking steady steps, zoning out the throbbing, pounding coagulation of noise coming from the crowd until it fades away into a distant, tuned-out sound. Taking long strides I'm able to quickly close the distance to Apollo, shaking his hand and exchanging greetings before dropping into my seat, making my best attempt to calm down and not appear too rigid.

"At ease soldier," Apollo jibes, earning a laugh from me.

Doing my best to relax, I lean back into my seat. "Habit's hard to break," I explain, letting out a satisfied sigh, "though these chairs certainly help."

"It's a good day to be normal height," Apollo agrees, following my suit in leaning back, and letting his eyes close shut.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me here now," I joke. "I can't be that boring can I?"

"Well," Apollo says, stretching out and giving an exaggerated yawn. "A Peacekeeper who scored a nine in training and is the first reaped male from District Two in twenty-nine years? Not giving me much to work with there."

Letting out a yawn myself, I glance around the stage, acting confused. "Hmm? Sorry, I zoned out there, what'd you say?"

He gazes me down with a raised eyebrow and I stare right through him, glazed look over my eyes. The two of us stay that for a minute before he begins cracking up in laughter, and a moment later I join in as well. Once the laughter finally dies down he straightens himself up, and I do as well, sitting up in my chair.

"In all seriousness, however, we have to talk about you being reaped. What do you think led to there being no volunteer?"

"We-ell," I drawl out, scratching the back of my neck. "I don't have to guess about that actually," I admit.

"Really?" Apollo asks, eyebrow quirking in surprise.

"Yea, you see, while there wasn't a chosen volunteer this year, my cousin-who you'll probably meet next year- was gonna volunteer, but then when I got reaped-" I cut myself off, shrugging. "I don't know, I guess I just felt that having to have my cousin bail me out just didn't seem right. Peacekeepers are supposed to be fearless, and be able to handle themselves. It's kind of silly, sure, but in a way I felt like if I couldn't handle the games, then I wasn't really a true Peacekeeper."

"So if you won, you'd still want to become a Peacekeeper?"

"Yes, sir," I respond truthfully.

"Well," Apollo says in a low voice. "I don't think anybody can claim you to be anything but an astoundingly brave young man, and I wish you the best of luck in the coming weeks."

"Thank you," I reply gratefully. "That means a lot, truly."

"And thank you as well, for your service of your country, both in and out of the games." The two of us both rise to our feet, and I give a salute to the crowd. "Ladies and gents, Alerio Weissman!"

With that, I offer a quick thank you to Apollo for his time, before turning and marching off stage, holding my head just a little bit higher, feeling just a bit more ready for the days to come.

 **Lei Park, 11, District 3**

I'm shaking as I stand at the edge of the stage. The boy from two has just finished his interview, which means I'm up next. I don't want to do this. I asked Carmen if I could just not do it, but she told me that I have to.

I hear my name called, but my legs won't let me move. I stay frozen in place for a moment before Alt gives me a shove, and I find myself stumbling on stage. Some people in the crowd laugh and my cheeks flush red, my head aiming straight down as I quickly walk over to the center of the stage.

Once I reach the center I bump into the interviewer, earning another few laughs, though Apollo just offers me a kind smile and shakes my hand, leaning in to whisper into my ear, "Just pretend that the crowd isn't there, you're just chatting with me, okay?"

He leans back away from me and I offer up a weak smile myself, stuttering out an "Okay," as the two of us take our seats. My feet dangle over the edge in the swirly white chair, being a few inches off of the ground.

"So Lei, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, what's your life like back home?"

"G-good," I stammer out.

"Tell me about your family and friends, what are they all like?"

"Well," I reply, shutting my eyes to focus on my memory. "There's mama, she's a genius. Makes medicine and stuff, and comes here to the Capitol even sometimes."

"Oh, really?" Apollo asks fascinatingly, "That's pretty cool. So who watches over you when your mom is away?"

"Nainai," I respond automatically. "She's super nice, and she has a cybernetic hand just like Alt's, but she doesn't have any legs so she stays in a wheelchair." I pause for a moment, then quickly add in, "she's still tons of fun though."

"I'm sure she must be," Apollo replies, amusedly chuckling to himself. "So," he continues after he composes himself, "a super smart kid like yourself, I'm sure you got girls swarming all over you back home, am I right?" He punches me on the shoulder lightly, and I flinch back instinctively, my face going pitch red at the same time from his question.

"N-no, n-not r-really."

"Alright, alright" Apollo backs up, "so you don't have any girlfriends. But how many 'girls that are friends' do you got?" The audience roars in laughter, and I nervously join in, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Well, I have two friends back home, Peri and Firefly."

Apollo lets out a long whistle, leaning back into his chair. "Dang! I've only had two girlfriends my whole life and now I've got an eleven-year-old who's got two at _the same time_."

I open my mouth to correct him, my cheeks somehow managing to get even redder than before, but he places his hand on my shoulder, informing me between his bursts of laughter that he's just messing around with me. "So, really though," he says after he's finally managed to calm himself down, "let's hear about your friends, what are they like?"

"Well," I respond wearily, feeling my nervousness creeping up. "Peri has been my best friend for a while now. She's got-" I shut my eyes and focus on remembering her. "blonde hair in a bun, those round, tight glasses, and dark brown eyes, kind of like mine." I open my eyes, offering a nervous smile. "She's a year younger than me because she skipped a year of school three years ago, and we've been best friends since."

"She sounds lovely," Apollo responds kindly. "And what about 'Firefly?' If she's even half as interesting as her name is, she's bound to be an amazing person."

As I close my eyes to focus on Firefly I feel goosebumps prickling over my arms, face flushing red just as it starts to finally die down. "Firefly, she's uh, she's got long, curly dark hair and light brown eyes, and she's always got scraped knees, and she's always cracking jokes and. . . ." I trail off, opening my eyes and immediately averting them to the ground. "She's my neighbor," I say weakly, feeling my knees get wobbly, my mind racing, yelling at myself to not make it so obvious. "She's always been super nice to me, and I've been friends with her forev-" my voice cuts off mid-word, the sudden realization of my situation falling on me in an instant. I've _been_ friends with her forever. I'm never going to even see her again. Never get to listen to her crack one of those dumb jokes that always cheer me up after school. Never have her drag me into her ridiculous stunts along with her. Never get to cry on her shoulder when mama sees how I've been doing in school, always disappointed.

Apollo must realize the revelation that I've come to, as he offers me a warm smile, and pats me on the shoulder, though I quickly pull away as he does so. "Hey, don't worry about it, you'll do fine, and I have high hopes that you'll be seeing Firefly, Peri, Nainai, and your mom again soon."

"No," I mutter quietly. "No," I say again, this time louder, tears beginning to well up in my eyes, my hands shaking furiously. "No, I won't! I'm not MEANT to do this!" I feel like everything I've bottled up for the past week is suddenly flowing out, and I can feel tears streaming down my face. "I was meant to — to be a prodigy kid, just to make mama happy, and I can't even do that right! Stop saying I'll do fine because I won't I won't I WON'T! You're LYING! Because I wasn't MEANT to do this! I didn't do ANYTHING to you but all you do is HATE us because we didn't make you HAPPY!"

My whole body is shaking, tears rushing down my eyes in waves, the rest of the crowd completely silent. Apollo coughs into his fist, offering an awkward smile to me, before turning back to the audience. "Well, I don't think any of us can blame Lei for being nervous about the coming days, but let's all do our best to help cheer him up as best as possible. Ladies and gentlemen," he stands up and motions for me to the same, and I numbly follow the command, lazily making my way to my feet, feeling completely exhausted both mentally and physically, my eyes glazed over. "Lei Park!"

 **Alt Lovelace, 14, District 3**

And to think, I almost thought that for once in my life, things would go easily, without me having to completely salvage the shattered remnants of the situation. Lei was just a few seconds away from a fantastic interview that would have sponsors lining up for us. But instead he had to go and have one of his breakdowns and ruin it all at the last second. I don't know why I ever get my hopes up.

Lei finally exits the stage, with a Peacekeeper leading him off as he follows in a dazed state. Just a few moments later Apollo announces my name, and I step out on stage, staring straight ahead, walking calmly and confidently towards Apollo, face devoid of any emotion. The Capitol has me pinned as a mysterious, intelligent, dangerous tribute and a solid underdog pick, so I need to make sure to do everything possible to keep that exact image firmly in place.

I give Apollo a quick handshake before quickly taking my seat, scanning over the crowd absentmindedly for a moment before turning my attention to my interviewer.

"A pleasure to meet you Alt."

"You as well."

"So," Apollo says, shifting in his seat, "you've been drawing a lot of attention as of late, pulling out an extremely impressive score of a _seven._ Which, to give you a fun little fact, is tied for the third highest score a fourteen-year-old has _ever_ gotten."

"I'm glad with my score, but hope to soon prove that I deserve even higher than what they gave me."

Apollo recoils in surprise, before plastering a grin on his face and chuckling. "Some confidence, I like it! Anything aside from your training score that could back up that confidence you have?"

Of course I have a plan in motion, and a quite brilliant one if I do say so myself. But as much as I'd love to talk about how I've manipulated the hard-headed boy from Five into being my puppet, doing so while he's backstage watching wouldn't be a bright idea. Besides, I've had plenty of time to talk over every fine little detail with Dalton over the past few days. "Well if I told you my plans they wouldn't be very effective ones, would they?"

Apollo smiles, then shrugs. "I suppose not," he admits. "So if you can't tell us about your plans for the games, let's hear about the girl herself, who exactly is Alt Lovelace?"

My mind quickly searches for something shallow to talk about, rushing through all the different possibilities. Family is a no, I doubt anyone would be interested in hearing about our cold, emotionless, dysfunctional excuse of a family unit we have going on. Friends are again a no, even if any of those jackasses at school weren't complete assholes, I'd rather not have to talk or think about any of my peers anytime soon. Olive would be something fascinating to talk about(and god I really do want to talk about it), but bringing up me and my mother illegally attempting to make a fully functional AI is, again, not a very good idea. With time ticking away, I begins desperately reaching at any ideas I can grasp at, and just as the pause between Apollo's question begins to reach towards an awkward silence, I toss out a weak answer to stall for time.

"Well, I don't really know what to tell you. I focus heavily on my studies at school, and what free time I do have I usually spent tutoring."

Apollo seems unsatisfied with the answer, as he leans in towards be, and pushes further. "And any protegee wunderkind that's under your belt? A favorite student?"

The answer hits me in a moment, and I mentally face palm for being so stupid and missing such an obvious connection. How could I have not seen that easy connection with Peri? "Actually, the one kid that I can even begin to stand would have to be a ten-year-old named Peri. She's smarter then most of the kids that I usually have to teach, and the one kid I've ever met that isn't a complete mess to deal with."

Apollo seems to connect the dots quickly, his eyes going wide. "That wouldn't be any chance be the same Peri that Lei mentioned?"

"The very same."

"That's quite an interesting bond that you and your district partner have there. So if both of you have a Peri in your life, then who would you say is your Firefly?" Apollo asks, a silly grin on his face as he offers an exaggerated wink.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry if I wasn't clear enough, what I meant to ask was if you have any special person in your life? A significant other?"

"No, I don't."

Apollo waves it off. "Well, I'm sure that a beautiful and intelligent girl as yourself has had her fair share of admirers in her days."

"No, I have't," I respond, perhaps just a bit too quickly.

"Ah, c'mon," Apollo exclaims. "You're telling me you've never had someone in your life that's had a crush on you? Maybe someone that you liked?"

I open my mouth to respond negatively, but as I go to speak, a memory pops into the back of my head, and my body falters for a moment, my mouth closing shut, battling desperately to close that memory away into the darkest corner of my mind. But as I go to do so, the harder I attempt to suppress it the more it fights its way to the forefront of my mind.

"Liam Hall." The words slip out of my mouth involuntarily, and the second the name comes out the barriers I've put in place to block out that month falls apart and crumbles, opening a floodgate of memory's rushing into my thoughts. Fourth grade. I was just seven years old, two years younger than everyone else there. I had gotten used to being bullied at that point, but that didn't make it hurt any less. But then there was Liam. He was transferred to the school, and that one month. . . . for the first time in my life I had someone I could actually call a friend. And then. . . . my fingers grasp around my right earlobe, the silver ring currently filling the hole. I shut my eyes and let out a deep breathe, attempting to get control of myself. Who gives a damn about that tool. He's a dumbass that's gonna spend the rest of his life cleaning up messes as a janitor. I'm better than him. I'm better than all of them.

"Well," Apollo says quietly in a low voice, breaking the dead silence of the area. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say that I hope that we get the chance to learn more about Alt Lovelace very soon."

He stands up, and before he can offer me a hand I quickly get up to my feet, focusing intently on the physical world around me. The endless rows of cheering Capitolites stretching out blocks away from the training center. The tall skyscrapers reaching towards the empty night sky. Apollo, grabbing my hand and thrusting it into the air, announcing my name to deafening applause.

My feet, slowly, steadily going. One foot in front of the other.

 **Celaena Reynar, 6, District 4**

My hands grasp at the sides of my dress, and a shutter runs through my body as my name is called on stage. Behind me Marina wishes me luck, and I thank her quietly, before slowly stepping out on stage. Apollo is standing in front of the two seats, a comforting smile as he bows towards me, and remembering the advice Troy gave me, I give a curtsy back, returning his smile.

He helps me get into my seat, and I give out an involuntary yelp as I fall back into it, being swallowed into the depths, my feet barely reaching over the edge. The crowd laughs loudly as my cheeks flush red, though I give an embarrassed smile back to the audience.

"Well, aside from being eaten alive by your chair, how are you doing today Celaena?"

I giggle at his joke, shrugging in response to his question. "I'm doing good, how about you?"

"Lovely, thank you," Apollo responds. "Ya know, not many people ever ask me how I'm doing, problem with being an interview, ya know?"

I shrug sheepishly, earning another roar of laughter from both the crowd and Apollo. "Now, Celaena," Apollo huffs out between fits of laughter, slowly calming himself down. "Tell me, how have you been enjoying your time in the Capitol so far?"

Leaning back deeper into my chair, I glance around nervously. "I dunno, it's okay, but I kinda miss home."

"I'm sure you do," Apollo offers sympathetically. "So, what is life back home like for you?"

"Loud," I say honestly, giggling to myself. "I'm the only girl in the house, except when ma visits for my birthday, or when Cali is hanging out with me. Dad and Pa and my brothers are all super crazy, but they're all fun still."

"So you got a few rowdy brothers then, huh?"

"Jack, Travis, and Sandy," I list off. "Travis is wayyyy crazier than them, but Jack and Sandy are both super fun too."

"Sounds like you have a great family."

"The best," I respond confidently.

Apollo quirks a smile. "And you also mentioned someone named Cali, I assume that's one of your friends?"

"Mhmm, she's my best friend in the world." I pause for a moment, then quickly add in, "her and Daniel, that is." I blush at the mention of Daniel, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair and smiling dreamily. "I really hope that I get to see them all again soon," I admit, feeling sick in the stomach as I realize how long it's been since I've seen my friends. If only Daniel or Cali were here right now. Cali would probably be going out into the Capitol to go explore the city, loving every minute of being on TV as a tribute. Daniel would be more like me, just wanting to stay inside and hang out, just not worry about anything.

"I hope so too," Apollo says softly.

"I-I just don't get it," I exclaim. "I mean, the Capitol is cool and most people here are nice, but. . . . I just wanna go home." I can feel a tear welling up in my eyes and I quickly wipe it away, sniffling. "Why can't everyone just go home and love each other?"

A flash of fear flashes on Apollo's face, before he quickly hides it as he folds his hands and rests his chin down on them, a somber look taking over on his face. "Well, I hope that you get to do just that soon. Ladies and gentlemen," he steps over to me and helps lift me out of my seat, earning a giggle from me as he sets me on the ground. "Celaena Reynar!"

 **Marina Rivera, 17, District 4**

On stage Celaena is daintily making her way off stage, her white wedding dress trailing behind her as she walks off. Her interview was good for the most part, while the comment at the end could be dangerous for anyone else, she's innocent enough for the Gamemakers to not take it out on her for it. Otherwise she was perhaps a bit bland compared to some of the others, which is both a good and bad thing. As long as I can cement myself as a danger in the games, we'll be one of the better pairs of the night.

My name is announced and I straighten out my dress, and begin confidently walking out towards Apollo. My blue dress bounces as I walk, the ripples looking like waves as the ends go up and down.

I offer a dazzling smile as I accept Apollo's handshake, carefully seating myself, giving a wave to the crowd once I'm settled in.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Marina."

"You as well, I've been looking forward to this for my whole life."

"Well, that leads perfectly into a question many people have been asking about you. Because despite being reaped, you managed to score a whopping eight in your Private Sessions."

I shrug nonchalantly. "The eight was okay, I guess. With another year of training I'm sure I could have gotten a nine or ten, but there's nothing I can do about that anymore."

"So, you did plan on volunteering next year then?" Apollo asks, leaning towards me in interest.

"Yes," I reply quickly, not _really_ lying. While I had originally planned on volunteering this year, I had a change of heart last second and technically did plan on volunteering next year for that short time. Besides, the angle of being robbed of my chance to volunteer is a good one. "Always dreamed of having my big moment of volunteering, though I guess that being crowned victor could make up for it." I offer up a cheeky smile with my statement, earning a hearty laugh from Apollo.

"And if you were to become victor, who would you be looking forward to returning to most?"

"Well, of course I'd be excited to see my family again. My dad has worked so hard my whole childhood to provide for me and my brother, and being able to help him finally retire and just relax for the rest of his life would be a dream come true. Because of his work, and with Kai being married to Carolina, we don't really see each other very often. Plus," I add after a second thought, "I'd finally get to spend some quality time with my step-sis when the two of us mentor together."

Apollo nods in agreement, and turns to the crowd. "For those of you that are unaware, Marina's brother is the husband of District Four victor Carolina Delta." He turns back to me and offers a smile, "And to be next-door neighbors with her and your brother, I'm sure that would be a huge benefit."

"Ya, it would be, but. . . ." I trail off, steeling myself up for what I'm going to say next. It's embarrassing as all hell and is admitting something that is completely out of character for me, but the second that Troy found out about it he told me I had to say it in my interviews. And even if it weren't for the massive sponsor appeal it will give me, it really is something that I'm way overdue on admitting.

"But. . . ." Apollo says expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

Inhaling deeply, I offer up a confident smile, brushing back my hair. "But, I think the person I'll be looking forward to seeing most will be somebody else." I pause for a moment, and Apollo looks at me expectantly, so I continue. "My. . . . friend, Zander. He's. . . . nothing like me at all," I admit, laughing weakly. "Guess that's why I like him so much. He's so ridiculously over-trusting and is just so absurdly kind you think he _has_ to be faking it, but he really isn't, because that's just who he is."

"It sounds like you really care about him."

"I do," I say softly, and I immediately hit myself over sounding so weak with the way I said that. "I-I know it sounds kind of selfish, but I really wish that he were here with me right now," I admit, surprised at myself for how everything is just spilling out so suddenly. "I always just feel so much better whenever I'm with him."

My thoughts go back to my final goodbye with Zander. Sitting in the goodbye room, his long rant about how no matter what happened he was going to miss the way things used to be between us. Suddenly there's a pit in my stomach as the full meaning of his words hit me, and despite everything I suddenly find myself wishing that I could go back and relive that moment again. Go back and just talk with him, not having to care about anything but just me, and him. Even if that meant going back home. Even if it meant not going into the games.

"Well," Apollo offers, his voice soft, "I hope you get to see him soon."

"Ya, me too," I respond, moreso to myself than to anyone else.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Marina Rivera!"

* * *

 **A/N: WHEWWWW WE'RE FINALLY DONE AND I'M DEAD AND THIS IS ONLY PART 1 OF 3 I THINK I'M GONNA DIE.**

 **On a more calm note, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please do tell me what you think of the 8 tributes we got a glance at, and what you think of my writing! Due to the different POV's we got this chapter, there were some very different tones to the separate interviews, and hopefully it all meshed together well in the end!**

 **Trivia(2 points): Two questions this time. One: Who's interview was your favorite here? Second: Who are you looking most forward to next chapter(District 5-8)**

 **See y'all next time!(Which, due to me having a massive presentation coming up for school, and having 3 LAX games next week, might be 2 weeks again instead of our normal weekly updates I'd begun to fall into)**


	22. Lose Yourself Pt 2

_~So here I go it's my shot._

 _Feet, fail me not_

 _This may be the only opportunity that I got~_

 **Armand "Armie" Machina, 6, District 5**

My heart is beating so quickly I can feel it pounding on my chest. My legs are a wobbly mess of jello, barely keeping me on my feet, where my toes are curling in anxiety. Goosebumps covers every inch of my skin, and I'm breathing so loudly that everyone here can probably hear my hyperventilating.

Out past the curtains and on the large makeshift stage in front of the training center, the clock ticking down the time left in the intermission reads just under a minute.

While I'm peeking out past the curtain, somebody taps me on the shoulder, and I jump, twirling around to see Amara offering me a meek smile. "Howdy."

"Hey," I weakly return, too nervous to force anything more out.

Amara, however, seems to have no such problem, her smile widening into a mischievous grin. "So, what are you gonna talk about?"

"I dunno," I reply honestly. "Audra told me to talk about you and Zarach and Fey, so I guess I'll do that."

"Aren't ya gonna talk about home?" She asks incredulously. "You get to say whatever you want to your mom and dad. I already know that I'm gonna tell them to make sure to watch my kitty for me while I'm gone."

"I guess," I squeak out. "I don't really know what to say though." Just as the words escape from my lips a buzzer goes off and a round of applause comes out, with Apollo announcing, "The interviews are back under way!"

"You'll be fine," Amara drawls, knocking me lightly in the arm.

"Knock 'em dead, champ," Zarach calls out from behind as Apollo calls my name on stage.

"Thanks," I shakily respond, giving a quick smile to Amara as she animatedly waves me out, shooing me to hurry up.

As soon as I step on stage I'm blinded by the spotlight shining on me, and I nearly take a step back behind the curtains to escape from it. My eyes soon adjust to the brightness though, and I continue stepping forward, the deafening cheers nearly knocking me backwards. Staring out into the crowd, the audience seems to stretch on forever, with row after row of people stretching all the way back to the building across the street, spilling out to the sides, packing each open space with rainbow colored waves of people.

I realize I'm not breathing, and quickly gasp for air, forcing myself to continue walking, convincing myself that no matter how much I try to blink it away, I'm not dreaming. After what feels like ages I reach Apollo, and he offers me a reassuring smile as he offers up a handshake. He says something to me as we shake hands, but I don't catch it, and I shake my head furiously, attempting to regain my senses.

He seems to notice and chuckles softly. "Nervous?"

"I-I've never seen so many p-people before," I stutter out under my breathe, earning a round of laughter from the crowd that, judging my the warm smile on Apollo's lips, is laughing with me, not at me.

"I'm sure it's quite a sight to behold," He offers, then after a moments pause, ushers me towards my seat, a simple white dining chair, which they seem to have traded out for the bigger chair from earlier that kept on swallowing up the younger kids. The seat is still tall for me, and Apollo has to lift me up to get into it, but it's a lot more comfortable than the other chair looked.

"So, Armand-do you go by Armand?"

Shrugging, I glance over towards off-stage, and can't stop the grin from spreading over my lips when I see Amara poking her head out through the curtains. "My mom and dad call me that, but my friends call me Armie."

Apollo follows my gaze over to the side, and rolls his eyes when he spots Amara, a warm smile forming on his lips. "Speaking of your friends, let's hear about them, what are they all like? Who all calls you 'Armie,'" he teases lightheartedly.

I shuffle in my seat, unsure how to respond. "Well," I trail off for a moment, "I guess the only person that really calls me Armie is Am," I admit sheepishly.

"And is Am somebody from back home or-" he trails off and I smile weakly.

"No, that's just a nickname I came up with for Amara."

"So you've been making some friends here in your time in the Capital?"

"I guess," I shrug shyly.

"So, aside from you and Am, anybody else in your little motley crew you got going on?"

"At first it was just me and Am, but then Zarach also joined, and Fey might too."

"That's quite an alliance you got there, but I can't help but notice that your District partner, Fox, is missing from it, despite this years twist, any reason why?"

I shift in my seat, awkwardly staring at my feet, my mind flashing back to the first day of training. "Uhhh, he just didn't want to join I guess," I finally manage to squeak out after a long pause. Apollo doesn't seem to take any notice of my half-lie, or how nervous I seemed while answering it, instead just moving on right past it.

"So, Armie, we've heard a lot about your friends, but what about you? What's something interesting about Armand Machina?"

"I. . . . can sleep anywhere," I answer hesitantly. "I guess that's kind of cool."

"Anywhere?" Apollo questions.

"Anywhere," I respond confidently. "Mom told me that I fell asleep tying my shoes once." A wave of laughter rises up from the audience, and I join in with them, giggling at the memory.

After a moment the crowd quiets down, and as my giggles break up, Apollo shakes his head, sighing as his laughter dies down. "Well, thank you for not falling asleep on me during your interview Armie, and I hope that the next time I interview you we can continue that trend.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Armand Machina!"

 **Fox King, 15, District 5**

As soon as Armie exits the stage, Apollo calls out my name, and I bound out towards him, a cocky grin plastered onto my face, a confident swagger in my walk. After a brief handshake and exchanging pleasantries the two of us both take our seats, and dive strait into the interview.

"So, Fox, you know that I have to ask about your District partner. With this year's twist tethering you to your partner, you've decided to not ally with him anyways. I'd love to hear what the reasoning behind it is."

A fire rises from the pit of my stomach and I nearly let out a growl as the pain in my eye suddenly becomes all too apparent. "Let's just say that me and Six don't exactly get along." My statement, in combo with Apollo's gaze settling on my black eye, seem to be enough for him to piece everything together, and he doesn't push any further.

"Well then, that certainly puts you in an interesting predicament, doesn't it. How do you plan to overcome it?"

Shrugging, I pick at my fingernails. "I'm smarter than anybody else in here, and I plan on using the skills that I have to outwit the other tributes. On top of that I don't have to worry about keeping a useless little kid alive."

"You sound confident in your chances," Apollo muses.

"Why wouldn't I?" I respond incredulously. "There's no way I'm gonna die in there, I'm meant for more than that. The other tributes? I can read them all like an open book. What are they gonna do? Out Fox me?" The crowd eats up the play on words, and Apollo flashes a quick smile, mostly focusing on getting back on topic, not wasting any time.

"And what exactly are you meant to do?" He inquires, leaning forward, chin resting on his outstretched, folded hands.

The question takes me a bit off guard, and I have to stop to think for a moment. What am I meant to do? When I said I was meant to do more I didn't necessarily have any particular things in mind, I just. . . . I just know that there has to be more then this. I mean, how can I die in the games at fifteen? What would be the point of all that? I'm. . . . me. People can say I'm selfish or full of myself or whatever they want, but I know that I'm meant to do something important. I don't know why, I just do.

I realize that I still haven't answered his question, and I quickly search for something to say. "Uhh, I mean, I guess I've always just thought that I'd follow in my dad's footsteps. He's been teaching me about technical stuff since I can remember, and it's the only thing I've ever really had fun learning, so I guess it'd make sense to turn it into a career."

"So your dad is a technician?"

"Ya," I confirm, "he does a ton of work on designing all sorts of different stuff. Factory production improvements, security systems, AI, all that sort of stuff."

"Sounds fascinating," Apollo says, seemingly genuinely. "So if that's what you plan on doing for a career, what about outside of the daily grind. Any special person back home?"

"Not really, no," I respond honestly.

"A handsome, charming young man like yourself? I'm not sure if I believe it," he jests lightly, and I find myself laughing along with him, shaking my head.

"Well, I'll get back to you in a few months and see if adding rich and famous to that list helps my odds. But for now I think I'm fine with just joking around and playing cards with my dad and Acer."

"Is Acer a friend of yours?"

"I guess you could say that. He's really an old friend of my dad's, but he's always been kind of like a mentor for me. With how busy my dad is all the time working he's always been there watching out for me."

"Well, it sounds like you've got an amazing support group back home, and I think it's easy to see how you've become the confident young man you are today, and I hope that you're confidence is enough to pull you through the games."

"Thank you, Apollo, I look forward to speaking with you again soon."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Fox King!"

 **Amara Ekkal, 7, District 6**

"Wish me luck Zarach!" I exclaim, giddy to be up on stage and the center of attention.

"Good luck," he responds solemnly, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. All throughout prep earlier today he was constantly worrying about his interviews, and didn't seem at all excited about it. He'll do fine though, Armie was about five times more nervous than even Zarach is, and he did great.

My name is called, and I skip out on stage, a goofy smile stuck on my lips as the crowd cheers me on, my cheeks flushing a rosy pink at the chants of my name. Going back to my training, I do a 'curtsy' as I reach Apollo, with him returning it with a bow before helping me up on the chair.

"Thanks for the smaller chair," I giggle out, unable to suppress the laughter at the mental image of all the kids falling back into the depths of the swirly chair from before.

Apollo chuckles, shaking his head. "Yes, as funny as an image the other chair was, I think it's only fair to give you something you don't get eaten alive by." A loud laugh erupts from me at the idea of the chair being a devouring beast, and it takes me a minute to finally calm myself down. Apollo seems to have equally as much trouble in stopping laughing, though he seems to be more amused by how amused I am by his joke than he is by the joke itself.

"Alright," he chokes out as our laughter finally begins die down, "now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's move onto the big questions that everybody is dying to hear, shall we?"

"We shall," I respond in my most serious, snobby voice, lifting one leg daintily over the other, folding my hands neatly in my lap, tilting my chin in the air.

Snorting, Apollo rolls his eyes. "So, we've heard about your alliance with Zarach, Armie, and Fey. Why don't you tell us about that?"

"Sure," I reply cheerfully. "Well, me and Zarach didn't really talk much at first, I mean, he kinda looks scary and all, ya know?" The crowd breaks down in laughter, and Apollo seems to barely be holding it in as he nods his head. "So, me and Armie met the first day at the-" I close my eyes, trying to remember the name of the station, "animal training station. And then we just kind of hung out for the rest of the day, and then uh," I cut myself off, trying to think of the best way to describe why Zarach joined Armie and I without describing the fight that happened. "Well, something happened, and Zarach decided to join too." Apollo raises an eyebrow at this, but doesn't comment anything, continuing to listen intently. "And then uhh, another thing happened, and Fey joined us too." While that one may seem like another cop out, that really is all I know about why Fey joined with us. None of us really know what happened to her District partner, but apparently it was pretty bad, because Fey came away from it in tears and for some reason, with soap stuck in her hair. We all decided it would be best not to ask.

"Anybody else you've thought about asking, or maybe someone who, like Fox, didn't want to join? Give us some juicy drama here, Am."

I shrug, giggling at him using Armie's nickname for me, as well as the idea of me spilling out all the drama of the training center. "I dunno really, we didn't ask anybody to join, it all just kind of happened, and nobody ever asked us to join, because uh, Zarach kinda looks scary and all, ya know?" I tease, giggling as I glance back off stage, slightly disappointed I don't get to see his response to my comment. Probably just rolling his eyes and muttering something vaguely threatening under his breathe while Fey and Armie crack up in laughter.

"Well," Apollo chuckles out. "Your alliance sounds thoroughly entertaining, and I'm sure as amusing a girl as yourself probably has a similar friend group back home, and plenty of great stories to tell of life in District Six."

"Kind of. I guess some of my friends are kind of like the ones I have here. Angere is nothing like anybody here, but Fey is actually _a lot_ like my friend Naya, but Armie is like, the opposite of Ryan."

"How so?"

"Ryan is a crazy. He'll do _anything_ if you dare him to do it."

"So, this Ryan, is he just your friend, or-"

"Nooooo," I quickly cut him off before he can even suggest what he was about to say. "No, no, no, no, ew."

Apollo chortles, an amused look spread across his face. "I see I've hit a sour spot," he jokes.

"No, I'd never, ever be his boyfriend. He's just a friend. Plus, that would be super mean if I did make him my boyfriend because I already know that Rain totally likes him." The words slip out of my mouth and it isn't until after I say them that I realize my mistake, suddenly remembering that they're back home watching me right now, my cheeks flushing a crimson red as the realization hits me. "Whoops."

Apollo still looks thoroughly amused despite my slip, shaking his head and bringing his hand to his mouth, attempting to suppress his laughter. "Well, not the love proclamation I was expecting to hear tonight, but there's a first time for everything I suppose."

"Yea," I drawl out, scratching the back of my neck. "Sorry 'bout that Rain, I'll make it up to you when we get back."

Giving a warm smile, Apollo reaches over and pats my knee. "I'm sure you will.

"L-"

"Oh, by the way!" I quickly cut in. "I almost forgot, mommy, daddy, take care of my kitty while I'm gone. I'll be back soon to take care of her."

Apollo chuckles, rolling his eyes as he faces back towards the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, Amara Ekkal!"

 **Zarach Eleazor, 18, District 6**

A slight smile forms on my lips throughout Amara's interview, and despite myself I actually manage to calm down by the end, nearly breaking out in laughter as Amara interrupts Apollo to tell her mom and dad to watch her kitty. But the smile quickly disappears from my lips with her next words, as the full gravity of the situation lands on me like a ton of bricks.

The games start tomorrow. I've gotten so attached to her and Armie, and even in just one day I've already grown to feel protective over Fey as well. And now within the next two weeks at the very least two of them will be dead. What am I going to do in the games? What if us four are the last left?

What in the world have I gotten myself into.

Luckily, I'm not given too much time to ponder over this newfound realization, as my name is called, and the stage manager gives me a nudge out, my feet moving on autopilot towards center-stage.

The two of us shake hands and silently take our seats, Apollo still with a goofy grin on his face from his interview with Amara. Most likely hoping for a similarly entertaining interview out of me, which he will most definitely not be getting. Because, while Atlas deserves everlasting credit for his fierce attempts to convince me otherwise, I refuse to play along in their game. They expect me to sit here like a nice tribute and answer all their questions with a smile and a laugh, and delve into every tiny detail of my life. But that isn't happening. Atlas did at the very least manage to convince me to not dis the Capital, something I only agreed to once he pointed out how it could negatively effect Amara and Armie.

"So Zarach, how are you doing this evening?"

"Fine," I respond dully. He stays quiet for a moment, seemingly expecting me to say more, though I stay silent, and after a moment he finally moves on.

"Well, we've heard a lot about your amusing alliance you're currently in, but I'd love to hear it from your perspective. How'd a guy like you end up allying with such an animated young group of kids?"

"They needed me," I answer simply, refusing to divulge any further than that.

"How so?" Apollo pushes.

In response I give him a look that hopefully gets across the message, 'you know why,' which it thankfully seems to, with him offering a solemn nod, quirking a quick smile, and moving onto a new topic.

"As many of you may know, Zarach here managed to score a highly impressive _eight_ in his private sessions, and I'm sure everyone is just dying to know how exactly you managed it, Zarach."

"I'm strong, not exactly a big mystery," I reply sharply, though he doesn't seem to notice the cutting tone, his smile still firmly in place.

"Well perhaps that may not be a mystery, but perhaps the biggest enigma of the games may just be yourself. Everybody is anxious to get into your head, and find out, who exactly is Zarach Eleazor?"

"Nobody interesting."

"Aww, c'mon. I know for a fact that there is at least one interesting thing about you." He waits for an answer as I say nothing in response, but he doesn't give up this time, diving in further. "You have a girl back home?"

"No."

"Friends?"

"No."

"A family?" He raises an eyebrow.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I glare at the ground, shutting my eyes, forcing unwanted memories from popping up. Not now. "No," I force out, the words, "not anymore," slipping out in just above a whisper. A wave of memories hits me head on, and I physically jolt back as they flood in. Yea, I don't have any family, not anymore. Not after what I did to Lorenna. Beyond even abandoning her, leaving her to fend for herself when I ran away, that's exactly what I had been doing to her my whole life, wasn't it? They beat her every day and I never did anything to stop it. I could have fought back for her. I could have brought her with me when I ran off. Hell, I could have went back home and got her out of there at any time. It's not like I ever forgot where they lived. But I've always just been a massive coward, haven't I? Always out for my own safety first. Too afraid to face my demons that I let the only person who ever needed me suffer.

"I'm done," I choke out, unable to keep the pain out of my voice.

"Excuse me?" Apollo asks bemusedly.

"I'm done," I repeat, this time slightly more forcefully, meeting his gaze, eyes steely and glassy.

"Uhm, alright," he replies awkwardly, clearly unsure of what to say. "Well," he coughs into his fist. "I wish you the best of luck in the games.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Zarach Eleazor!"

 **Boaz "Spark" Ash, 8, District 7**

I can't stop bouncing up and down as I wait my turn. I just want to get this whole thing over with and get up there, do my interview, and be free for the rest of the night. I don't mind public speaking, but waiting in ling for a _whole hour?_ Torture.

Thankfully for my sanity, however, it's finally my turn. The moment that my name is called I'm bounding out on stage, relieved to finally be moving, only to quickly be ushered back to my seat by Apollo after a quick handshake. Great.

"Great to finally meet you Spark," Apollo greets, surprisingly using my preferred nickname without me even needing to tell him. Guess he watched the reapings and saw me say it there. . . . probably because he's the announcer for the reapings. Duh.

"You too," I reply quickly, my foot already back to incessantly tapping, needing to be in movement.

"So, tell me about yourself, Spark."

"Kay, well, I'm an orphan, live in the orphanage, duh. Uhm, I usually hang out with Jake, do all sorts of stuff that gives the staff heart attacks and gives us lectures on 'responsibility and maturity.' Ya know, all that fun stuff."

"It sounds like you're a bit of a trouble maker," Apollo jests.

"Not _trouble_ really, well, except when I get caught, then there's usually trouble. But maker? Nah. I'd consider myself more of a fun maker, really," I offer up a mischievous grin with my statement, and Apollo chuckles, shaking his head.

"Ugh, it's seventy-seven all over again, I swear I remember my daughter saying those same words to me."

"Sounds like someone I can get along with," I cheekily offer.

Apollo pulls out a thousand yard stare, shuddering. "Sorry, just lost in the horror of those years. I'm sure you've been giving Aspen, Mace, and Kieran a heck of a few days. Or have those habits died here in the Capital?"

"I've been active," I say mischievously, rubbing my hands together for dramatic flare. "Lots more stuff to work with here, nearly got Kieran _real_ good on the Trains, but I couldn't find a bucket of water. . . ."

"Ah, so _that's_ why I decided to be an interviewer instead of an escort," Apollo teases. "I had forgotten recently, and would like to extend my thanks for reminding me."

"No problemo, my amigo. Always glad to help."

"So, Spark, aside from pulling pranks and causing general mayhem, what have you been up to in the Capital so far?"

"Well, I met a cool guy from Ten, Oake, and us two allied up, so now I'm part of a massive alliance involving like, four Districts, so that's something, I guess."

"It sounds like you've been having a good time in the Capital."

"I mean, sure, I'd be having a great time in the Capital if I like, wasn't here at all and stuck being in these stupid Games, or if the Capital just didn't exist at all and I could just chill in Seven. Then I'm sure I'd be having a good time." Right as the words leave my lips, the reaction from Apollo tells me that what I said may have been a mistake, but I don't regret it. The Capital are all pigs, and if they're gonna force me away from home, I'm gonna get my chance to speak my mind to them. Before I can say anything further though, Apollo quickly wraps things up.

"And I hope you get to be back in Seven soon," He quickly gets out, not giving me any space to get any more words in.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Boaz Ash!"

 **Kieran Colton, 18, District 7**

Why does this have to be me going on stage? Every single person in Panem, watching me, judging me, and for some damn reason that idea doesn't even scare me. A tingling numb sensation spreads throughout every inch of my body, locking me frozen in place, leaving me completely dry of feeling anything. A quick involuntary shudder runs through my bones, and I jolt in surprise.

"Feeling nervous big guy?" The unmistakable voice of Noa calls out from behind me, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to have any conversation with the girl right now. Or ever for that matter. I don't get why for the whole third day of training she became suddenly obsessed with me, maybe because I was the only one alone like her, but whatever her reason, once she had it she refused to give up. For five hours I didn't say a single word to her as we trained, and then another few hours of waiting for our Private Sessions, with her talking non-stop to me, unfazed from the lack of response.

Yet again I don't reply, just shuffling uncomfortably, and focusing back on stage, where Spark is currently in the middle of his interview. A small part of me wishes I could be like him, going up there and just talking, and laughing, and not caring at all. But when getting the energy to even smile and say one simple sentence is enough to make me want to collapse, doing what he's doing right now would be nothing short of a miracle.

"Or, lemme guess?" Noa pauses for a moment, and when I glance back I find her with her eyes shut, fingers pointing to her brain, before she suddenly flashes her eyes open and points to me. "You are feeling totally numb, just like normal, because those Capital drugs that they gave us hasn't done jack?"

I glance back to the stage, silently knowing that she's right(not that I ever had any hope those drugs would work anyways), but not wanting to get drawn into a conversation about how messed up the two of us our. I had plenty of that yesterday when she went on a two hour(yes- two hour, that's not an exaggeration) rant about how 'Calico still hasn't disappeared, and if anything, is more pissed off than ever.'

Of course, I suppose that's not as bad as the two hour lecture I got from Mace during interview prep this morning to just, 'be more happy,' but that's a pretty low bar to set.

"Now lemme tell you, big guy," Noa says, stepping around her District partner to lean against the wall next to me, "don't you worry about one little thing, ya know why?"

Sighing, I give her an expecting look, and she grins widely back, thrilled she finally got some sort of response from me. "All you gotta do, is just go up there, and be yourself," she steps back from me, as if to see my reaction to her brilliant plan, but after I offer none, she continues, still unfazed. "No fake smiles, no 'sociable' kind words, just be who you are and the Capital will eat it up because they are all gonna say, 'damn, that huge dude from Seven is scary as hell, he's gonna win this thing I bet,' and suddenly you got sponsors swarming you." Noa smiles at me, punching me lightly on the shoulder as Spark exits the stage, and my name is called. "Go get 'em, big guy."

Turning back towards the stage, I feel the slightest hint of a smile creep onto my lips, before it dissipates into nothing just moments later. For just that moment, though, I can't help but feel happy, that even if her words didn't mean anything to me, at least she seems to actually care. That's a lot more than I can say about most anybody else.

But before I'm given any more time to reflect on it, I'm being shoved on stage, and I find myself frozen for a moment as I step out into the spotlight. I stand there for what feels like minutes, locked in place, the deafening roars and blinding lights leaving me like a deer caught in headlights.

Finally I get the energy to get myself to move, my feet slowly shuffling over towards Apollo, beads of sweat pouring down my forehead, a full sensory overload making me want to just curl up in a ball on collapse right here on stage. Apollo firmly shakes my hand, leaning in to pat me on the back, whispering a quick assurance in my ear to, "just be myself."

The two of us take our seats opposite of each other, and Apollo dives straight into things. "A pleasure to meet you Kieran, how have you been doing tonight?"

"Fine," I force out between clenched teeth, the words physically hurting as they come out.

"Well, I can see that with your District partner you could be a bit emotionally drained at the very least," he teases, earning a roaring laughter from the audience.

I nod in response, memories of the second day on the train coming up, with Spark stealing the photo of Jon, Romilly, and I. And then asking if Romilly was my girlfriend- I visibly cringe at the memory, burying it immediately, not wanting to think about Jon right now. Not ever again. That's never going to happen, and I should stop giving myself the pleasure of imagining Jon and I ever being a thing.

Apollo, unaware of the turbulence going on inside of me, chuckles, prodding further. "Having a flashback to one of Spark's pranks?" This time I offer no response, continuing to stare out into nothingness, wishing I could be like the boy from Six and have the guts to just say that I'm done and walk away.

"Seems like those pranks are a lot more emotionally scarring then we gave them credit for," Apollo jokes, desperately attempting to save this train wreck of an interview. Not that I care though. Why should I give a damn about what others think of me, when nothing I do will change their minds?

The next minute passes by in a blur, with Apollo asking me waves of questions, attempting to find some sort of common ground, but I don't hear any of it. In my mind I'm already away from here. I'm already back on the D7 floor, lying in bed, not having to worry about anything. Not having to worry about anyone. No pain, no regret, no sorrow. Just. . . . nothing.

And finally, Apollo gives in, stops asking questions, and turns to the crowd, a fake grin plastered on his face. "The best of luck to you in the games, Kieran.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Kieran Colton!"

 **Felicity "Fey" Cardin, 6, District 8**

I pick at the white fur collar on my neck, nervously waiting for my interview. The outfit I have on is basically my dream clothes, and I can only imagine what Zilly, Charm, Kai, and mom will think when they see me wearing an actual dress, and a pink one at that.

My name is called, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I quickly scurry on stage, luckily not having to worry about walking in heels. We tried earlier today to get me to walk in them, but they hurt my feet to wear, so they were nice enough to just give me some green 'flats' instead.

Apollo bows to me, and my mind flashes back to training, quickly remembering to curtsy in return, before letting him help me onto my seat.

"Pleasure to meet you Fey," Apollo starts, flashing a reassuring smile.

"You too," I squeak out shyly.

"So, we've heard quite a bit about your little alliance with Armie and the pair from Six, but one thing that wasn't clear was how you ended up in it?"

"Uhm," I start, unsure of how to answer honestly, without having to actually talk about it. Because as much as I don't want to lie, talking about what happened is something I don't want to do anytime soon. My hand subconsciously reaches up to my hair, and I shudder, blocking the memory of that day from popping up. "Well, I was kind of not sure what to do, I was by myself, and I went to the swimming pool to try that out, and Amara and Armie were real nice to me, so I just stayed with them."

"So it sounds like it just kind of happened," Apollo comments.

"Ya, pretty much," I sheepishly confirm.

"So, are you still allied with your District partner then?"

"Uh," I trail off, again not sure what to say. Roman said that I have to stay with her, but ever since what happened she hasn't even looked at me, and I haven't exactly been leaping to start talking to her either. "I guess," I answer weakly.

Apollo seems to sense how awkward I'm feeling, as he quickly changes the topic. "I have to say, I love your outfit, did you by any chance have any input on it?"

"Thanks," I sheepishly squeak out. "I gotta choose the colors."

"Well, you did a lovely job with choosing," he compliments. "Though that's no surprise that somebody from District Eight would be so so fashionable."

I break out in a fit of giggles over the compliment. "I've always wanted to make clothes," I admit. "Maybe I can be a, uhhh," I struggle to find the name of the people who made the dress for me.

"Stylist?" Apollo asks, seemingly reading my mind.

"Ya! A stylist. But I dunno, as fun as it is to make clothes, I think wearing them is even funner."

Apollo chuckles, a warm smile slipping onto his lips. "I'm sure you'd make a great model, but I wanna back up and ask you about that first part. Have you ever designed clothes?"

"Kind of, I guess. I've drawn stuff in my notebook, but nobody has ever really seen that. But I do have a bunch of beads that I got from my mom, and well, I was gonna make a bracelet for her for mother's day, but. . . ." I trail off, suddenly remembering that I forgot to bring the bracelet along with me to the Capital. "I hope I get home soon," I admit nervously. "I was gonna make my ma that bracelet, but I haven't finished it yet, and mother's day is in just a few days. . . ."

Apollo's smile drops for a moment, a sympathetic look glazed over his eyes, before he quickly puts his smile back in place. "Well, I hope you get to finish that bracelet for her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Felicity Cardin!"

 **Noa Jacquard, 15, District 8**

"And next up, put your hands together for the enigmatic Noa Jacquard!" The moment my name is called I'm moving towards Apollo, using every ounce of my willpower to not just break out and start sprinting towards him. There's a bubbly feeling in my gut, and I'm shaking in excitement, a wide grin set on my lips. The chance to talk to have everybody in Panem all listening to me talk? While getting to spend a week living in the most amazing place on earth? That type of opportunity comes once in a lifetime.

I energetically take Apollo's handshake, holding tight, almost afraid that this will all disappear in an instant and I'll find myself back in District Eight again. Because as much as there is to complain about thus far in the Capital, even with all the negatives, it still beats District Eight, hands down.

"Firm handshake you got there," Apollo jokes as the two of us take our seats.

"Sorry," I laugh, "just a bit excitable right now. Those docs put me on some meds to try to help with the 'you know what' but I think they accidentally gave me something else cause right now I just feel _super_ energetic, like I honestly can't even think because every time I try to it just comes out as words instead," the words spill out so fast that Apollo seems to be barely comprehending anything I'm saying, and even I don't remember half of what I said. They really oughta double check whatever it was they put me on and give it to big guy instead. Maybe that was who it was meant for and they accidentally mixed meds or something. Or somebody just thought it'd be fun to see the crazy chick verbally vomit for five minutes.

"I see," Apollo slowly states after a pause. "Well, you seem like a fascinating young woman, so why don't you tell us a bit about yourself," he suggests.

"Sure," I chirp delightfully, racking my brain for anything to say. "Well, I'm fifteen years old, turning sixteen in a few days, so I'm expecting some birthday cake out of you guys. Uh, I do a lot of drawing and stuff like that, play a ton of soccer with my friends, ya know, normal teenager stuff. I once only walked backwards for a full month, so that was pretty cool. Not sure why, actually, I'm kinda weird like that sometimes, ya know?" Apollo absentmindedly nods, clearly overwhelmed by my explosion of words. "Uhh, what else, well my family is pretty cool. My mom, she's always super nice, always defending me when people call me a nutter and all that. My aunt is also cool, and my grandma too, my sisters, Kaya and Linn, they're alright too, my dad's kinda boring, don't really see him much. But uh, yeah, that's pretty much the basics. I've always wanted to visit the Capital, although I always imagined coming here to go to a wedding, not go into a death match, but ya know, ya get what ya get and ya don't throw a fit."

There's a silence that fills the air for a moment before Apollo slowly nods. "Well alright then," he states, prompting a roar of laughter from both the crowd and myself, my fit of giggles refusing to die down, earning even more laughter from the crowd, until I'm finally able to break off the laughter.

"Sorry," I choke out between laughing, straightening out my dress, forcing a serious look onto my face, adopting a solemn tone. "Sorry, this is super serious, and I'll answer all questions with the utmost respectability and responsibility-" my serious facade cuts off mid sentence, a cackle of laughter rising from my throat. "I'm sorry, I can't do it, they jacked me up on some _seriously_ strong shit. Wait, am I aloud to say shit?"

Apollo tries to keep a straight face, but a few cracks of laughter break through as he shakes his head. "No, you're most definitely not."

"Well, shit, my bad. Wait-" Apollo raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug.

"Well, moving on," He says. "One of the-very many- things that you said about yourself was that you always wanted to see a wedding, why is that?"

"Oh, it's just always been a dream of mine. Become a world famous clothes designer, make a super elegant, fancy dress for some super important and rich Capitalite and be invited to the wedding. The weddings in Eight are kinda drab, ya know? Super dull and boring with a super long ceremony and long, bland speeches. Capitalites weddings though? I bet those are insane."

"Having been to way too many weddings for one lifetime, I can certainly attest to them being 'insane,'" Apollo jokes.

"Sounds like my kind of party," I add, rubbing my hands together and flashing a grin, before it quickly dissipates, a sinking feeling in my gut. "I just hope I get the chance to go to one." Apollo opens his mouth to respond, but I quickly keep speaking, the words spilling out before I can even think them. "I mean, if I win the games, and come out then. . . . then maybe you guys could- could make me better, ya know? You guys could. . . . fix me, I guess that's one way to put it. I mean, you guys jacked me up on the wrong stuff and I still feel the best I've ever felt in my life, just imagine what I'd be like if- if you guys could make me better. For good. No more seeing stuff that isn't there, no more feeling like everybody in the world is out to get you. Not having to live through the absolute torture of not knowing what is and isn't real, and not ever getting a break from it at any single moment. . . ." I trail off, no longer able to find words, and I stare down at the mutilated remains of my hands, a single tear that I didn't even realize was there dripping down my cheek and into my palm.

"Well," Apollo solemnly starts, "I think I speak for everyone when I say it was an absolute pleasure hearing from you, and I wish you the best of luck in having your wish come true.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Noa Jacquard!"

* * *

 **A/N: Ahhhhh so sorry this is so late, I was super busy with LAX, school, and some college visits, but now I'm here! And I promise another update before the week ends! I will say that next chapter will not be an interview, but rather be the after-interview party I promised, with all the D9-D12 tributes getting their POV there because honestly I'm emotionally drained and totally done writing interviews rofl. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, and make sure to tell me what you think of everybody! We've only get 4 more chapters left in the pre-games, and then it's on to the games! HYPEE!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Same as before, your favorite(s) this chapter, and ones you're looking forward to most for next time.**


	23. Lose Yourself Pt 3

**A/N: Just a few notes for this chapter. First of all, the groups I come up with later in this chapter were all completely randomized, so just keep that in mind. Second, I meant to have a chapter explaining this better but never got along to it, so to keep it brief, the CDA is basically a mixture of the CIA, Homeland Security, and Secret Service. (Also, as a side note, might want to pay attention to the times as I do go slightly back in time a few times. I tried to keep it mostly linear but sometimes it just worked out better otherwise)**

 **Anyways,** **Here's the last eight tributes! Enjoy!**

* * *

 _~You better lose yourself in the music, the moment_

 _You own it, you better never let it go_

 _You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow_

 _This opportunity comes once in a lifetime you better~_

 **Izaak Ackerman, 7, District 9**

 **Night before the games, 6:52 PM**

It's a bit funny that the only birthday I've had a day before I go into a death match that my parents have lied to me my whole life about, just might end up being my best one I've ever head. Not exactly saying much though, when all six of my birthdays so far have been ma and pa and everyone else all fawning over Hugo and Gunther while I'm ignored. At least last year wasn't too bad, with Oskar in bed sick for the day, meaning that while I wasn't paid any mind, I at least didn't receive any negative attention instead.

So even though half this whole day has just been me waiting in line, I'm still going to go ahead and call it my best birthday ever. Because it has to be. Because Elsbeth promised me that this year would be my best birthday ever. She promised me that she'd take me and Anna- _just_ us two, out to the city to see her new house and meet her husband. This birthday is the last time I'll have her home. It _had_ to be the best birthday ever. It still has to.

At least Otto has made an effort to help me have some fun, cracking jokes and trying to make me laugh while we were waiting in line, listening to me talk and talk, on and on, without complaining like people usually do. While he may not be like Elsbeth, willing to do anything for me, I still appreciate how much he seems to care about me. Because while I still love my brothers and uncles, it can still sometimes feel like they don't. And, well, I guess it just feels good to have somebody watching out for you.

My interview finished about a half-hour ago, and Dakota's is just wrapping up now. Aside from the girl from Twelve, all the other tributes are all lounging around in the room back stage, with a strict order to stay in this room until the interviews are over. In the center of the room is a massive sofa, with a large TV playing the interviews in front of it, which is where all the Careers sans Fiona are sitting(the girl from Two being busy harassing Lei over in the corner). Amara(who reminds me way too much of Clara for me to ever get along with) and Armie are taking another of the couches towards the right end of the room, while Zarach grabs some food from the snack table. The last couch is taken by the alliance of all the outliers, with the pairs from Seven, Ten, and Twelve all seated. The rest of the tributes, including Otto, are all aimlessly wandering around, awkwardly looking for something to do(except for Alt, who, as always, is staring everyone in the room down uncomfortably).

All things considered, I'd say my interview could have gone worse. I was a bit nervous at first that I was gonna weird everyone out- just like I normally do, when I started talking. Which I definitely did, but at the very least they seemed to be more weirded out in an fascinated way than a freaked out way. Instead of wanting me to shut up and go away, he seemed to want me to keep talking and hear more, something that even Otto and Elsbeth(who have just put up with my talking) don't want.

And while a pessimist side of me wants to say he was just doing it to be nice, I know that he wasn't. Every time that he was pretending to be interested in a tribute he would run his hand through his hair, and every time that he was uncomfortable enough to want to end the interview he would allow tons of long pauses and speak in a slightly more high-pitched voice. Neither of which he did in my interview.

I still feel a bit odd about the whole thing. It just felt so. . . fake. Like, when he asked about my family, and I just told him everyone's name, lied and talked about how perfect everything was back home, and how I was looking forward to going back to them soon. Pretending that I hadn't just found out a day before that the Hunger Games actually are real, and that I really might die, and never come home again. Acting like a dumb, silly little kid like all the others were, purposefully saying smaller words to not make people think I'm weird. It all felt less like an interview opening up about myself, and more like me acting a part that they expect me to be.

Of course, I could have opened up if I wanted to. I could have talked about how even though it may be wrong, that I don't even feel anything special towards my ma. Or about how my pa goes out of his way to make sure to let me know there's nothing special between us. I could have complained about how uncle Alder constantly teases me, singles me out, treats me like I'm a freak. I could have admitted for the first time to anyone how Oskar beats me, leaving bruises that I insist were made by bullies at school. I could have vented about never, _ever,_ being seen as my own person because of being a triplet. Always being held up to Gunther and Hugo, looked as the odd one out, the disappointment among the pair. I could have complained that the one thing I do have going for me, being the youngest of the triplets, the baby, was taken away from me because of Clara. That instead of me being the precious, smothered, loved youngest, Clara got all the attention instead. I could have cried about how the one person who stands up for me is leaving me to go and live in the city, or how the only other person who cares about me is so emotional and sensitive that even though she's four years older than me, I'm the one who has to look out for her, instead of her protecting me.

I could have admitted that despite how much everyone in my family seems to constantly be out to hurt and suppress me, I still can't help but love every one of them, even though I know they don't feel the same way about me. That to them I'm just the mistake. The lost duckling.

But instead I didn't. Instead I put on my fake baby face, pretended that I didn't notice every tiny little detail of everything I saw. Pretended that I wasn't told by the tribute psychologist Dr. Jones that I have 'Low Latent Inhibition,' coupled with a IQ that puts me in genius range. Pretended that she didn't tell me that I was the only case she'd seen of someone to have both those attributes without autism. Pretended that I didn't notice the slight quiver in her smile as she told me that I was a creative genius, that I didn't catch that when she said that I'll be able to do amazing things in my lifetime, she thought that it didn't matter anyways, since I'll never make it out of the games.

I guess it's no surprise, really, after all, I've been acting all my life. Maybe if I get out of the games I'll be able to stop acting. Maybe I'll just have to get better at it. Maybe I'll die in the games, and because I never acted otherwise, people will never know how I truly felt. Maybe twenty years from now everyone will remember me, and by then, it'll be so long they'll have forgotten I ever was anything but normal. Forget they ever called me a freak, or teased me for not fitting into what they expected.

Or I could just stop the acting once and for all. I could look into the camera once I'm lifted up by my pedestal into the games, and I could let everything out. Tell the whole world about who I really am. Let ma, and pa, and Alder, and Oskar, and Jaeger, and Gunther, and Hugo, and Elsbeth, and Anna, and Clara know who I've been. Who I could have been, if they didn't constantly push me down, make me feel like who I am is wrong. Show them that they were wrong to always wish that I was somebody else. Prove to them that they shouldn't be disappointed in me.

"Hey, Izaak," Otto taps me on the shoulder, two ice cream cones in hand, both vanilla, but one with a dab of chocolate staining the bottom of the cone, meaning it's not from the vanilla-only machine near us, but rather the mixed one from across the room. The same one that Fox has also apparently visited at the same time judging by his equally un-touched, yet slightly melted chocolate cone. "You alright? You look kinda out of it," He asks concerned, holding out one of the cones for me to take.

"Ya," I respond nonchalantly, taking the cone from his left hand, flashing an appreciative smile. "I'm fine."

 **Otto Baxter, 15, District 9**

 **Night before the games, 6:52 PM**

"This is fucking lame, isn't it?" I jump at the voice coming from behind me, dropping the crunchy cone that I had gotten, into the tray of ice cream drippings below the machine.

Not turning around to face the voice of the boy from Five, I pick the cone up, licking the chocolate off the sides before sticking in under the dispenser to fill it with vanilla. "I can't complain," I retort plainly, moving to fill a second cone for Izaak after mine is filled to the brim.

"I'd sure as hell say we could," he replies defensively. "The last night of at least a third of the people here, and we gotta spend it sitting in a room, waiting for god knows what."

"The last interview is over in just a few minutes," I respond calmly, moving to the side to allow Fox to grab a cone for himself. "They'll tell us what to do then."

He falls silent at that, the only sound filling the air being the murmurs of conversation from other parts of the room and the soft whir of the machine as he fills his with a cone with chocolate. Just as I turn to walk away and leave, however, he calls out to me, "Hey, wait up a second," he says in a hurried attempt to sound nonchalant.

"What's up?" I ask patiently.

"Well, uh, I was just thinking," he trails off for a moment, kicking at his foot. "Ya know, both of us don't really have alliances and I was thinking us two could pair up or something, help out both of our odds."

I feel a quick leap in my heart, immediately tempted to instantly accept the request. I'd been trying so hard to find an alliance during the three days of training, but was never able to find out that was the right fit for both Izaak and I. And now here someone is _offering_ one at the last minute.

Before I can make any irrational decisions, however, the logical side of my brain kicks in, giving me a weary feeling. "I thought you were already allied with Three," I mention suspiciously, unable to wave off the odd feeling I'm getting from the boy.

"Well, ya, technically, but. . ." he drops his voice to just above a whisper. "I know that the girl is just trying to use me. Thinks that I'm dumb enough to manipulate, and that she can slit my throat in my sleep once I'm done being useful and just kill both me and Armand. And that's where you come in." He pauses for a moment, glancing around the room wearily before landing his gaze back on me, raising an eyebrow, wondering if I want him to continue. I nod in affirmation, and after another cursory glance around, he continues. "We're ditching the bloodbath, just grabbing a quick thing super close and hightailing it to the east of the cornucopia. You come too, and then when she's not expecting it we can take out her District partner to get them both out. Easy as that."

He quiets down, allowing me to soak in all the information, and once the full reality of what he's suggesting sinks in, I feel a sick feeling in my gut. "You want me to help backstab her," I affirm, squirming at the idea.

"It's either we betray her or she'll betray us. Better to be the first to stab someone in the back, then to be the first to take the knife." His voice is unwavering, offering no argument, acting is if he's merely stating infallible facts. And a part of me says that he's right. If I want to get out I need to be willing to do whatever possible to escape, even if that means turning my back on my morals. "Listen," he says, interrupting my thoughts. "You have somebody special you wanna get home to, right? Ryzee was her name right?" I gulp deeply, averting my gaze to my shoes. "If you ever want to see her again, you know what you're gonna have to do."

His words hit me like a shock wave, and I lose my voice for a moment, the image of Ryzee implanted onto my brain. I can almost hear her talking to me now. Her contagious laugh that always brought a smile to my lips. Her smile, which seemed to never disappear, no matter what anybody else says. At the same time, though, I see all the bad memories. When she never smiled. The days back in primary school where Ryzee was always teased, constantly picked on, and when I just stood back and did nothing. Thinking there's nothing to do to help her, knowing that standing up for her would be the right thing, but not doing it anyways. Because I was scared of the alternative.

That thought immediately snaps me back into reality, and I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. "No thanks," I force out through gritted teeth, doing my best to keep my voice neutral.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said no," I say again, dropping my gaze away from him.

"But-" he starts to say more but I turn and walk away, not hearing it. Each step I take feels like a thousand pound wait and the rational part of my brain is screaming at me to turn around and tell him that I'll ally with him, but I keep on walking. He follows me for a moment before giving up and stomping away, muttering something about making my own grave, but I still keep on walking.

"Hey, Izaak," I tap my District partner on the shoulder, offering a weak smile, holding out one of the cones. "You alright? you look kind of out of it."

"Ya," he replies cheerfully, taking the cone from my hand. "I'm fine."

"Ya," I say, quirking a half smile. "Me too."

 **Mabel Beech, 11, District 10**

 **Night before the games, 6:55 PM**

On screen Dakota's interview just ended a few minutes ago, with Apollo now running through a quick highlight reel from the night. "And now," he announces after the short clip. "Something a little new this year, the tech crew this year has tracked the volume of the crowd at the end of each tribute interview, and has managed to use that information to put together a ranking of the most popular interviews this year."

"Because that's exactly what they need," Oake mutters under his breathe next to me. "More ways to rank us."

"This is nothing," Spark chimes in cheerily. "Last night I was up late watching some TV, and there was one show where they ranked the 'top five hottest tributes.'"

"Quiet down," I say harshly. "I'm trying to listen." Spark in response quiets down, silently apologizing, while Oake just rolls his eyes, murmuring something about being hungry, and leaving to go head off to the snack table. Spark follows after him, tagging by his tail, leaving me with just Nova and Kieran.

"And your top five most popular interviews, in no particular order, are: Glory Fairfax, Alerio Weissman, Amara Ekkal, Felicity Cardin, and Noa Jacquard." My shoulders sink as the last name is called, my disappointment at myself not making the top five quickly turning into worry as I realize that nobody from our alliance was one of the names called. My mind quickly goes through everyone's interview, and my worry only increases as it occurs to me how much of a train wreck our alliance was. Kieran didn't say a single thing his interview, Spark dissed the Capital, Oake was just flat out boring, and while Nova, Dakota, and I all did well, that's still half of our alliance that tanked.

"Don't worry about those rankings," the voice of Dakota calls out from behind me. "The tributes who go earlier are always gonna get an advantage if you're going off of loudness. I'd be willing to bet half the crowd had lost their voices by the time Nova and I were going."

"I guess," I concede weakly, turning to face her. "Still though, it's kind of worrying that both the other alliances had two people in the rankings while we had none."

Before she can respond, all noise in the room is cut off by an ear-piercing beep, all eyes landing directly on the source of the noise, an older man in a charcoal suit and grey, slicked back hair. In his left hand he holds a buzzer, while his right is tucked into his jacket pocket, a forced smile painted on his lips, his eyes invisible through the dark shades.

"Sorry for the intrusion," he announces un-apologetically, stuffing the buzzer in his pocket. "My name is Acestes Nelson, and I'm the head field agent of the Capital Defense Agency. I'm here to ensure that all of you arrive safely to the Games. In a few minutes all of you will be split into eight groups of three, and assigned an agent to watch you over and assure your safe arrival to the after-interview party. In order to make this go as smoothly as possible, I would like to ask that each of you keep track of your two partners and stay with them. The agent assigned to your group will take care of transporting you to the party, but things will go by much faster if you help them out by grouping yourselves together, rather than make them hunt you all down."

Acestes pauses for a moment to allow us to soak in the info, which judging by the looks of utter confusion spread across the room, is much needed. The man speaks into a device on his wrist, then diverts his attention back to us. "I'm sorry, for those of you that were not informed beforehand, this year a special after-interview party will be held from Seven to Ten o'clock. There you will get to meet with potential sponsors, as well as enjoy one last night of fun before the games begin tomorrow. Do we have any questions?" He pauses for just a moment, then immediately continues. "Good, now, please get together in the following groups," Acestes quickly lists off the groups, and I listen intently for the one I'm apart of, keeping my fingers crossed behind my back to avoid getting grouped with Oake.

"In group one, Amara Ekkal, Felicity Cardin, and Noa Jacquard." Once the names leave his mouth a high pitched cheer comes from the back of the room, though Acestes continues as if without interruption. "The three of you will be assigned to Agent Washington." I turn around and find that lining the back side of the wall, an array of eight men, all similarly dressed to Acestes, all are waiting. One of the men kicks off the wall, and after gathering his group, leaves through the back door wordlessly, four Peacekeepers trailing the group.

"In group two, Marina Rivera, Aurum Lark, and Armand Machina. The three of you will be assigned to Agent Choice." The trio all leave wordlessly, Armand with drooped shoulders and color drained from his face.

"In group three, Mabel Beech," I catch my breathe, praying for somebody good. "Alt Lovelace, and Fox King. The three of you will be assigned to Agent Riley." I let out my breathe, not bothering to try to hide the disappointment from my face. Of course I just so happen to get paired with the two biggest tools in the whole games. The two anti-social sociopaths make Marina and Aurum look dreamy.

But then again, things could be worse I suppose. I could have been paired with a complete tool for not just one night, but for the whole entirety of the games be not only stuck with them, but also forced to make sure they keep alive if you want to survive.

Wouldn't that be hell?

 **Oake Sinclair, 13, District 10**

 **Night before the games, 7:07 PM**

The car ride over to the party was pretty uneventful. I got paired up with the little girl from Four, who's name I've completely forgotten already, and thankfully for my sanity, with Spark, the one guy in the whole group I can stand. The agent in charge of watching us, a guy named Thylos, seems to not really care at all, and has for the most part just left us to do our own thing. So while all of the other groups are all pinned down, stuck with their two partners and with a constant watching eye of their agent, Spark and I have more freedom to wander around(with Celeana just trying her best to keep up with Thylos).

It took just a few minutes to get to this place, and the room itself actually isn't very big, being just a single floored room spread out with tables of food and drinks, as well as TV's playing all sorts of breakdowns on the interviews. On top of the tributes, agents, and Peacekeepers, there's also about fifty or so Capitalites wandering from group to group, chatting with the tributes, mentors, escorts, and each other. Just about everyone(even Mabel's group from hell) seems to have at least one Capitalite interested in them, except for of course, ours. Guess the Capital doesn't like it when you bash them and their games. Who would of thought. Not that I mind of course, if anything the freedom is actually pretty great. Talking with a bunch of freakish strangers doesn't sound like a good way to spend what very well could be your last night alive.

"Alright, I got a game for you," Spark says as we stand near the center of the room, hands in our pockets. "Who do you think is the richest person in this room?"

"Tough question," I ponder, rubbing my chin dramatically. "Well first things first we can totally eliminate all the kids from being the richest."

"Well, duh, but there's like," Spark quickly counts up the room. "Three people in here that aren't at _least_ sixteen. And besides, I think that the kids are actually the key. See, only the super rich people can afford to bring their kids with them here."

"I don't think so," I respond. "I think the absolute richest probably is a super big penny pincher. No kids, no dyed hair or plastic surgery or fancy clothes or anything."

Spark snorts. "Ya, a Capitalite that doesn't have dyed hair and fancy clothes. Good luck with that one."

"Ya, well what about that chick?" I retort defensively, pointing to a plain looking woman chatting with Nova.

"That _chick_ is the escort for Twelve, smart guy," Spark teases, barely holding in laughter.

"Alright, alright," I reply, giving in. "So the richest person _might_ have super fancy clothes."

"Maybe not," he suggests. "I count three Capitalites in here who don't have super ridiculous clothes or dyed hair or skin. Him," he points to a young man, probably about twenty, with dark brown, slicked back hair dressed in a tux. "Her," he nods towards a thirty-ish year old woman with light brown hair dressed in a yellow dress. "and her."

"Who?" I ask, not seeing who he's gesturing towards.

"The girl with the same dress as the second woman," he clarifies.

"Pretty sure a six-year-old isn't the richest person here, Spark."

"Never know," he exclaims raising his hands in the air. "Could be some sort of super-genius prodigy."

"Alright, well that's not even worth a response. But back on topic, I'd be willing to bet some cash on the first guy being the richest here."

"Why do you say that? I was thinking the woman."

"Naw, the first guy just looks like one of those powerful business dudes, plus, if we decided that anyone with a kid won't be the richest here, I'd be willing to bet that the girl is that woman's daughter. They probably won it in a raffle or something and are the poorest ones here."

Spark doesn't reply to my comment, distracted from our conversation by a passing by plate of snacks, carried by an avox. "Ooh, these things look amazing," he exclaims, picking up a cup filled with a chocolaty sort of goo.

"What's this?" I ask absentmindedly, picking up a glass of a clear liquid. Immediately as I do so the avox recoils away, pointing towards a bottle lying on the platter, shaking his head.

"Dos Jacintho, lager especial," Spark reads. "I think it's some sort of alcohol."

Glancing around the room, I shrug. "Looks like a bunch of the other people are drinking it, must be pretty good."

"Also, illegal," Spark says slowly and hesitantly, shuffling around nervously.

"Killing people's also illegal, but apparently they decided laws don't apply to us, so why should I follow this one?"

"I dunno, just feels kind of wrong," Spark admits, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Don't worry about it," I reply, bringing the glass up to my eye to get a better look at it. "What could go wrong?"

 **Amandine "Dina" Corral, 6, District 11**

 **Night before the games, 7:55 PM**

"I'm gonna go grab a drink of water," Dakota yawns out. She crouches down to my height and smiles. "Do you want anything?"

I shake my head, clutching onto Grace as the doll flings back and forth in my arms. She stands back up and walks away, leaving me alone with just Mr. Johanas. Shade has been talking with a bunch of adults for a while now, and Dakota was keeping me company while he was gone. But I don't think he's gonna be coming back. When he left he told me to leave him alone, and he sounded pretty serious when he said it.

Glancing up to Mr. Johanas, who must be double my height, I do my best to not look scared as I shakily wave. He takes off his sunglasses and folds them up, sticking them into a shirt pocket, his bright blue eyes shiny as he smiles down at me.

"Looking for something to do?" He asks, his voice gruff and scratchy. In response I shrug, causing him to laugh and reach into his coat pocket. "Here," he says as he pulls out a circle with a string attached to it, spinning it around to show it to me. "My daughter loves these things, all you gotta do is let it go," he drops the toy, letting it almost hit the ground. "And then pull up," he pulls up on the string wrapped around his finger, bringing the toy back up into his hand. "Wanna give it a shot?"

I nod slowly, carefully setting down Grace on the table next to me. He bends down and helps me wrap my finger around the string, and keeps his hand around the toy as he shows me how to use it. I push down, and once it's almost about to hit the ground I pull back up, with the toy bouncing back up into my hand.

"Look at that, you're a natural," he exclaims proudly, ruffling my hair. "Took me about twenty times to be able to use that thing. Called a 'yo-yo' apparently, don't know who named that."

A giggle escapes my lips as I look up at him. "That's a funny name," I squeak out.

"Ya," he laughs loudly, "it is, isn't it?"

"You have a funny laugh," I giggle.

"My daughter says the same thing," he chuckles. "You should see her with one of these things, she does some crazy stuff like spinning it around and doing spirals, it's a sight to behold."

Another minute passes of me playing with the yo-yo while he watches with a smile, before my game is interrupted by a tap on my shoulder. I jump at the touch, spinning around to see Shadow standing with two plates of food in his hands. He motions over to the table. "Here, you must be starving, let's grab some chow," his voice much gentler than normal.

I glance back to Mr. Johanas, and he smiles down at me as I hand him the yo-yo back. "Thank you," I murmur to him, feeling slightly sad that I'm not able to keep it.

"You're very welcome," he says as he puts the yo-yo back into his pocket, nodding his head towards the table where Shadow is setting down the pates of food. Without another word I scurry over towards him, being sure to not leave Grace behind.

Shadow takes a seat on one of the tall bar stools, and I stare up at him, the stool being up to my head. He takes a moment to turn around and notice, rolling his eyes as he drops down and lifts me up onto the stool. Once up I set down Grace on the table next to my food, and turn to face Shadow, who climbs back up onto the stool.

The two of us eat in silence for a few minutes, him chowing down everything on his plate while I pick at my bowl of mac and cheese. "You should eat up," he finally says between bites. "You're going to want to get as much food in you as possible, there's not gonna be as much to eat the next few weeks." I stay silent, forcing down a spoonful of the cheesy noodles, earning a loud sigh from him. "It was a suggestion, not an order, if you're not hungry you don't have to eat."

"Sorry," I murmur, setting down my spoon, earning another, even louder sigh from him.

"Amandine, look, I know I've been kind of tough on you the past few days," he says, his voice low. "But you have to understand I'm not doing it to just be a jerk, alright? I just-" he cuts off, going silent for a moment, and I look over to see him dragging his hands down his face, muttering something under his breathe. "I'm just trying to keep us safe, alright? I'm sorry if I've been acting like a total jerk to you."

He falls silent, and I stare at my lap, twiddling my thumbs for a moment, before murmuring out, "It's okay, Shadow."

A quick smile shows up on his lips, the first one I've ever seen from him, before it quickly disappears, and he rolls his eyes. "Shade."

"Oh, ya, sorry," I say embarrassed, though he doesn't seem to care about my mistake as much as last time.

"It's alright," he says. "Always hated that name anyways."

 **Shade Reinfield, 15, District 11**

 **Night before the games, 7:40 PM**

You know, despite everything tonight could have easily gone worse. The interview went fairly well, both for Amandine and myself, with her overt shyness being found adorable, and with me looking like a genius compared to the most of the competition. Not bragging that I'm the most intelligent guy or anything, but with half the tributes being below twelve, and many of the others being a bit. . . dim, for lack of a better word, it's not hard to stand out.

As it turns out I managed to dodge a bullet by refusing to join the alliances I was invited to. Because as tempting as it was to be able to be in charge of a group the size of the Outer-District alliance, the interviews showed that while the quantity is high in their alliance, the quality most definitely isn't. Boaz dissing the Capital will come back to bite them, and while Ten and Twelve didn't do awful, they certainly didn't stand out. Plus, having to deal with Kieran everyday might have been a bit much for me. I don't dislike him perse, he just reminds me far too much of my mom for me to want to be interacting with him on the daily.

Saying no to Fox was a no-brainer, as tempting as it was to ally up with him and then just stab him in the back, taking out both him and one-third of the most dangerous non-Career alliance. Still though, something tells me that he's the type of guy to stab you in the gut before you can even get to his back.

District Three was the same problem as Fox, with Alt being about as untrustworthy as humanly possible(as well as just infuriatingly annoying. Does she not realize that she's only 14?).

Otto was a bit weak for my taste, and while Zarach is capable, and his allies are sponsor magnets, something tells me I wouldn't fit in with their alliance. They seem more likely to just try to enjoy the time they have left before they inevitably kick the bucket. But not me. I know everyone thinks that their gonna win, because after all, it is them, so of course they will. But I really will win. Not because of some indescribable feeling that I just _can't_ lose, but because I know what I have to do to win. Something most of the others here don't seem to realize.

"Shadow, I'm hungry," Amandine complains, plopped down across the table from me, face in her palms with a look of pure boredom glazed over her eyes.

Letting out a loud, exaggerated sigh, I do my best to keep my voice calm. "Shade. I don't know why you can't figure that out, it really isn't that hard."

"Sorry," she squeaks out, looking absolutely terrified that I'm going to snap at her. As much as I appreciate how quiet she is, I really wish that Amandine wasn't so scared of everything. Still though, better than getting slowly driven mad by somebody like Amara or Boaz.

Ignoring her apology, I turn away from her, scanning the room for particular rich looking Capitalites. I don't have to look for long, however, with a young woman, looking like she's in her young twenty's but with how much plastic surgery the Capitalites do, is probably forty, walking towards our table, looking directly at me.

I turn to tell Amandine to go find something else to do, but find myself not needing to, with her getting up and going to talk with Dakota. Perfect.

The lady, a light skinned woman with long, flowing blonde hair, ridiculously bright eyes, and the whitest teeth I've ever seen, takes a seat opposite of me, right where Amandine was just seated, flashing a smile at me which I return.

"Shade Reinfield?" She asks in a fairly normal, if not a bit high-pitched accent, waiting for a nod in return from me before she continues. "I saw you and your District partner's interviews and just _knew_ that I _had_ to meet you two."

"Oh really?" I ask, feigning surprise at anyone being interested in sponsoring us.

"Definitely," she affirms. "You're District partner was just so gosh darn adorable," she squeals.

"Ya," I laugh, offering a wide smile.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, there were tons of super cute kids, but most of the other one's partners were kinda downers, you know?"

"Totally," I agree, flashing an even wider smile, and quickly making a mental note to act more outgoing and friendly, particularly to Amandine, around sponsors.

"I just think it's so sweet of you to be looking out for her. It must be so hard for her, with her being so shy and all, but I just think the idea of just the two of you being allies in the arena is _so_ adorable. Tell me, do you have any younger sisters?"

"No, but I've always wanted one," I lie. "I guess she's kind of become like a little sister in the past week though, I just really hope that the two of us get out of this alright."

"Oh, I can just imagine now," she fawns. "The two of you living in Victor's Village together!" She squeals again, and I laugh.

"Ya, that would be amazing."

"Well," she says, getting up out of her seat. "I am going to go get some of my friends and tell them that I think I just found the _perfect_ victor, but be expecting to see me again, and _definitely_ be expecting to have a sponsor in me."

"Thank you so much," I say in my most sincere voice. "It means a lot, really."

In response she just smiles, turning and quickly strutting away towards a group of Capitalites set up in the corner. Once she's gone and I'm left alone, I turn back to Amandine, and let out a sigh. Getting up, I walk over towards the food table across the room.

I know that I'm ready for the games. I know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to win. There's nothing else I can do but hope that will be enough.

 **Nova Whipp, 5, District 12**

 **Night before the games, 8:35 PM**

Glory, the girl from District Two, and I have been sitting around at this table for the past hour and a half, and I'm starting to get pretty tired. At first I was bouncing off the walls, still excited about getting to talk about home and jumpy from eating so much candy afterwards. But after talking to so many people from the Capital for so long, and with how late it's getting, I really want to just rest my head and fall asleep on the table.

I started to nap a few minutes ago, but Tristan came over to me and told me that I need to stay awake a bit longer and talk to the people. While I don't know why I have to, Tristan is pretty smart, so I decided to listen to what she told me to do. After I agreed, she gave me a drink of something and told me it would help make me feel more awake, but I still feel the same as before.

The girl from Two is talking to an older lady super fast at the next table, with the lady smiling widely as she nods along, seeming more confused than anything, but still looking like she likes talking to her. Glory just got finished talking to a boy her age, and her cheeks are flushed as he walks away, leaving her and me alone at the table.

"Hey," she says sheepishly as she sits down to the left of me, the red in her cheeks just starting to fade.

"Hi," I yawn out.

"What'd your mentor say to you?" She asks, stirring a cup of hot chocolate with her spoon, staring off into the distance, either as tired as I am or just lost in her thoughts.

"That I have to stay awake," I lazily reply, resting my chin on my palm, letting out a deep sigh. "What'd that boy say?" I ask curiously, instantly causing her cheeks to flush red again.

"Nothing," she quickly says. "we were just talking."

"Talking about what?"

"Well, uh," she trails off, cheeks somehow managing to get even redder than before, her voice stuttering, before she's able to find her voice again. "He said that he would try to get some money to sponsor me."

"Do you think he likes you?" I ask, suddenly feeling much more awake than before, leaning forward, wanting to hear Glory's answer.

This time she just laughs in response, shaking her head. "Glad to see that I'm waking you up."

"But does he?"

Rolling her eyes, she suppresses a giggle. "Ya, I think so. If promising to sell your favorite 'video game' to get money to sponsor me isn't a proclamation of love, I don't know what it is," she laughs out, earning a fit of giggles from myself.

"Do you like him?"

"I just met him twenty minutes ago, so I don't really know," she giggles out, then after a moments pause, turns to me, a sly grin in place. "So what about you, Mr. curious cat, you crushing on anyone?" Laughing at her name for me, it takes me a second to calm myself down and reply.

"I guess," I shrug shyly.

"I guess?" She teases.

"My mommy and daddy always tease me that I'm gonna marry my friend Alyssa when we're big kids," I sheepishly admit, my cheeks going slightly red at the idea of ever marrying my best friend.

"Oh, that was the 'super brave' friend you were talking about in your interview, wasn't it?"

"Ya, she's crazy," I crack up, remembering all the stunts she pulled just over the last week. "She'll do anything you dare her to do."

Glory smiles. "Reminds me of my friend Delphi, she's always doing crazy stuff to try to cheer me up."

"Hey dorks," a high-pitched voice interrupts from behind me, and when I glance back, I see the girl from Two walking towards us, pulling out a seat to the right of me.

"Leave him alone, Fiona," Glory says sternly, her eyes narrowed.

Fiona rolls her eyes, grabbing a piece of candy from my plate and popping it in her mouth. "Such a kill-joy," she mutters with a full mouth. Glory doesn't respond, an awkward silence filling the air as she continues to stare daggers at her as I shift uncomfortably between the pair.

This might be a long night.

 **Dakota Marshall, 14, District 12**

 **Night before the games, 9:25 PM**

I think I might be starting to regret my choice in allies. Looking around the room, most of the tributes are all talking with sponsors, getting them to laugh or to cry, shaking hands with wealthy Capitalites. Meanwhile my allies. . . .

Spark and Oake are sitting in one corner of the room, where I don't think they've been visited once this whole night. Most likely due to the fact that it took all of thirty seconds of watching the pair to see that Oake is completely wasted. Mabel looks to be on the verge of tears being stuck with Alt and Fox, getting just a few sponsors visiting her, instead spending most of her time shooting daggers at Oake. Kieran has been wordlessly sitting at a table with the equally silent Zarach and Izaak for the whole night, with any sponsors who come to that table immediately going to either Zarach, or more likely, Izaak. Poor Nova looks totally out of it, and is on the verge of falling asleep while the two younger Career girls both are currently in the middle of a shouting match, while their agent stands awkwardly next to them, making sure they don't get physical but clearly having no idea what to do.

And meanwhile, as is pretty obvious by how much free time I've had to study my allies, my night hasn't gone much better. It went decently at first, a few sponsors coming my way, and most seeming relatively impressed at that. But then Amandine had to go and start acting ridiculously adorable, and now anybody coming our way is instantly flocking to her and Shade. Just my luck.

So instead I've spent the past half-hour tiredly sipping on a cup of hot chocolate, questioning all of my life choices and, as much as it pained me to, realize that I should have listened to Tristan. Ugh. That hurt to even think. She told me to stay away from the big alliance, and instead try to weasel my way into an alliance with D6. But instead I decided that a bigger alliance meant a better one, ignoring Tristan's warning that "the night before the games start it's going to suddenly hit you, the games are tomorrow, you've made a big mistake, and you're going to realize that you are a complete and utter idiot." Not that I'm going to admit to her that she was right, but still.

Right now Tristan is chatting away with the mentors from Five and Six, and for a moment my hopes are lifted. Maybe she'll be able to pull some magic and get us into that alliance instead. On top of being much better for Nova and I's hopes of winning the Games, based on the interactions in their alliance, I'm sure it would be much better for Nova. Between the constant bickering from Mabel and Oake, Kieran just being in general constantly mopey, and Spark's dangerous comments about the Capital, even if we had a star-studded line-up of tributes, the character of the people in our group leaves a bit to be desired.

Heck, just watching Nova, he seems to be having more fun talking with the girl from One, a _Career_ , then he ever did talking with anyone in our alliance. Well, at least he was, until the other Career girl came alone and started the never-ending screaming match between the pair(I have to say though, as hard as it must be on Nova, it's actually pretty impressive that neither of those girls have passed out yet from loss of breathe, or at the very least lost their voices yet).

" **The time is now 9:30, tributes will now be asked to find their agent and partners if they have not already. There are thirty minutes remaining until tributes will be escorted back to the Training Center."**

The voice echoes through the loudspeaker, and Shade turns to face me from a table over, waving me over to join him, Amandine, and Agent Johanas. Reluctantly I get up, stretching out and loudly yawning, leaving behind the now cold hot chocolate at the table, grabbing a fresh mug from a passing by avox, quietly thanking him before taking a seat to the left of Shade.

"Fun night?" He asks monotone.

"Loads," I reply sarcastically, absentmindedly swirling my spoon through my drink.

"Successful night?"

I open my mouth to answer back with another quip, before shutting it, glancing back over to Tristan. "I guess you could say that."

 **Connie Thompson, 6, Capital**

 **Night before the games, 9:50 PM**

This just might be the best day ever in the whole history of days. Getting to watch the best interviews _ever_ from the front row, and then get to actually _meet_ all of the coolest tributes afterwards? I was a bit scared yesterday that when I met all the tributes that I liked that they'd end up being jerks, but (almost) all of them have been just about the coolest people _ever._

The first thing I did was go straight to the boy who's birthday it was today. He was cool, but he spoke kind of funny, and Kieran and Zarach were both a bit scary to be around, so I didn't stay there for too long. After that I went to the Career's that were kids, and both of them were fun. Glory was a bit quiet and Fiona was kind of mean to the boy that was with them, but they were still okay. After that I meant to go meet what was like, the best group ever, with all three of my favorite tributes being in it(Fey, Noa, and Amara), but there was such a long line of people waiting to see them that I decided to go somewhere else for a while.

When I was looking I saw that the boy from Five, Armie, was looking kind of scared(which I would be to if I was that close to the big Careers), so I decided to talk with him for a while. After all, he was allies with Fey and Amara, so maybe he could tell me about them. But instead of spending just a few minutes there before going to see my favorite tributes, I've been here talking to him for the last hour and a half. Whoops.

"No. Way," I exclaim in my most dramatic voice. "There's no way you did that."

Armie giggles, shrugging sheepishly. "It's not _that_ crazy."

"I dunno," I joke. "I think we should get your head checked just in case."

"Hey, don't check me," he says defensively, throwing his hands up in the air. "Amara is the real crazy one, not me."

"Well, I would ask her, but your friend has a bit of a fan club over there already, unlike a," I cough into my fist. "Certain somebody."

"Hey!" He mocks offense. "At least I have a friend with a fan club, Ms. 'I don't really have any friends.'"

I gasp, bringing my hand to my mouth. "How _dare_ you," I say in my most adult accent, wiping a fake tear from my eye. "And ya know," I start, bringing my voice back to normal. "When a cute girl tells you that you're their best friend, that's not how most people would respond."

"Cute?"

"Watch it, bub," I warn, sending an array of wordless, exaggerated threats his way, earning a fit of giggles in return.

"Hey, Armie, hey Connie," a voice calls out from behind us.

"Hey Jaycen," I reply, earning a completely confused look from Armie as he turns around to see who's speaking to us.

"Hi Mr. Choice," he says with a yawn, apparently too tired to question whatever confused him.

"We've only got about five minutes until we gotta head out, you want to get something to eat?"

"No thanks," Armie replies, slowly stretching in his seat. "I'm not hungry."

"Me neither," I lie, copying Armie in tiredly stretching.

"Alright, let me go get Marina and Aurum, then I'll go drop you off with your mom and the rest of us will head out. Sound good?"

The two of us both nod, and he heads over to the next table to collect the rest of Armie's group, leaving us two alone again. An awkward silence fills the air, both of us unsure what to say.

"So," I finally say, my voice soft and uneasy. "I hope I get to see you again."

"Ya, me too," he replies, his eyes pointed at the ground.

"Try not to die or anything, alright?"

He smiles, barely holding in a giggle. "Alright," he says quietly.

I glance over to the snack table, just a few feet away from us, and see Aurum filling up a plate while Marina walks towards us two. Meanwhile Jaycen is chatting with another one of the agents who I don't recognize, with the other man handing him a yo-yo and patting him on the back. The two both separate and Jaycen walks over towards us, while the other man turns to go the opposite way, but suddenly stops, turning around towards the table. Jaycen opens his mouth to say something to us, but is cut off before he gets the chance.

The other man lifts up the clothe to check beneath the table, and instantly after doing so jumps back, tackling Marina to the ground. "Everybody get dow-"

He never finishes the sentence, an ear-piercing explosion cutting him off. A blinding light appears for just a flash, before it's taken over by the vision of Jaycen, tackling Armie and I to the ground, just moments before whizzing by objects flash over the place we just were sitting.

I open my mouth to scream, but find myself unable to hear it, the deafening white noise of the explosion now replaced by the sound of bullets cutting across air, combined with a mass of screams coming from the room, inaudible orders being shouted, the only thing I can make any sense of being the pounding of my chest, thumping up and down as blood rushes to my head, my blacked out vision seeming to blur and spin.

I feel a jolt of some sort of impact around my stomach, and Jaycen's whole body seems to jolt for a moment before slumping, a warm liquid pouring onto my stomach. A stream of tears rolls down my cheeks, and I'm no longer screaming, instead just choking out sobs, unable to calm down my breathing, not even wanting to stop crying.

Another wave of smaller sounding explosions goes off, seemingly from just above me, and another scream escapes from my lips, and another scream coming once I realize that I can't hear anything anymore, all noise replaced by a loud ringing noise buzzing in my ear. I take one last deep breathe, before my eyes suddenly feel like they have weights placed on them, my whole body drowsy. My thoughts begin to fade, my body numbing as my breathe slowly calms, my body jerking one last time before going still, my eyes sliding shut.

* * *

 **A/N: We're getting into things now! Hope you guys liked the chapter! We got mended relationships, little kids developing crushes, new friendships, underage drinking, and. . . bombings. Yeah. Well. Anyways, let me know what you guys think of this chapter, and keep your eyes peeled for next chapter, where (most) everything will be explained!(Just 2 more chapters now left in the pre-games!)**

 **Trivia(2 points): 2 questions, one point a pop. First one, which of these POV's was your favorite? Second question, now that we've seen all 24 tributes, who's your favorite(s)? Who's your early pick for victor?**


	24. C'mon

**A/N: Exams hurt.**

* * *

 **Felicity "Fey" Cardin, 6, District 8**

 **Night before the games, 10:30 PM**

 _It's getting late, and I_  
 _Cannot seem to find my way home tonight  
_ _Feels like I am falling down a rabbit hole  
_ _Falling for forever, wonderfully wandering alone~_

It's been thirty minutes since the explosion. Everything since then has gone by in a blur, a hazy rush of emotions and panic. All I can manage to remember is a lot of screaming, smoke-filled air, and the agent watching over me rushing Amara, Noa, and I away from the building and straight back here, then bringing us to our rooms. Roman came by a few minutes later, and brought the two of us to our rooms, telling us we had to get some sleep for tomorrow.

So I've sat here for the past twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide and light, blood pumping through my veins, sending a jitter through my bones. My fingers twitch, rolling impatiently by my sides, rubbing against the soft fur of my recently changed into pajamas. The thick blanket lies beneath me, sweat already rolling down my forehead without its added heat, my palms being kept dry only by constantly wiping them on my white tank-top.

I turn over to my side, forcing my eyelids shut, but the feeling of alertness doesn't go down, and within a few seconds my eyes are forced back open like a spring. Grumbling to myself, I swing my feet over the side of the bed, hopping down onto the floor, my knees bending from the impact of the drop. Dragging my feet numbly behind me, I make my way over to the bathroom, rubbing my eyes as I lazily flip the light switch on.

Despite being seemingly completely awake, the blinding light causes me to stumble backwards into the wall, shuffling around awkwardly for the few moments it takes me to regain my vision. Once I do I go to the sink and turn on the tap of cold water, stepping on a stool in order to reach into the sink basin. Even with the boosted height, though, I'm still not tall enough to crane my neck far enough to get a sip of water, and I turn off the water, dropping back to the ground with a sigh.

Left standing in the middle of the bathroom with no goal in mind, a scratchy throat, and too much energy to fall asleep, I settle for taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub, resting my elbows on my lap, propping up my head from drooping with my fists. My mind wanders over to the party, and a cold shiver runs through my body as more clear memories of the last few minutes pop up.

We were all grouped up and ready to go, but Amara ran off to go say goodbye to Armie before we left. She had taken just a few steps towards him when a man, one of the agents I think, that was near Armie screamed something, the explosion going off just a moment after. Once it went off, all I remember is seeing-not hearing though- Amara screaming, frozen in place as the fireball inched towards her, the image cut off as I was tackled to the ground-by Noa I think, my vision dimmed by a smog setting over the whole building.

Without even thinking I find my feet moving, inching towards the bedroom door, my feet stepping on the tail ends of my pajamas as I slowly shuffle forwards. Reaching up on my tippy-toes, I slowly turn the doorknob, not sure where I'm headed, only knowing that I suddenly want to get out of my room. The door slowly creaks open as I slip through, and right as I do so my eyes instantly set on the room directly across from mine.

Hesitantly, I force myself to keep walking, slowly reaching for the doorknob, silently slipping it open just a crack, and right as I do so I hear a soft noise from the room. Inching the door open another crack, the noise becomes clearer, a loud sob being choked out as I slide through the just large enough space.

Right as I do so, my leg bumps against the door loudly, sending it shut, the crying noises cutting off immediately, a light being turned on a second later that burns my eyes. I send up my hands to shield the light, grimacing as I bring one of hands away to weakly wave. "Hi."

"Hey," Noa chokes out, quickly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, ya know."

She chokes out a half-laugh. "Big word you know there."

"I'm six, not four," I grumble. "I'm not an idiot."

"My bad," she jokes breathlessly, staring down at the ground.

"You don't though," I say after a moment of silence, still seeing her trying to hide the tears from me. She doesn't reply, or even acknowledge I said anything for that matter, continuing to stare at her hands, laid in her lap, her body completely stiff and motionless.

"Why do you always do this?" I exclaim suddenly, shocking both her and myself at my outburst, the words just pouring out. "You've barely said a single word other than 'hello' to me for the past week, and then tonight you finally started to be nice to me, but now you're right back to normal again. Why?" I cross my arms, scrunching my eyebrows, ignoring the wobbly feeling in my legs, while she just keeps looking at her hands, that same blank look on her face. "Why?" I say again, this time much weaker, a quiver in my voice as it cracks.

She finally looks away from her hands, and as she stares me dead on the eye, I see the tears welling up in hers. "You wanna know why I was _nice_ today?" She asks, hurt dripping from her voice as she shakily spits the words out. "Because I wasn't _me._ Because they jacked me up on enough drugs to be somebody else, somebody that isn't a conceited, schizophrenic freak. You wanna know why I never talk to you? Huh?" She pauses for a moment, looking at me expectantly, and I slowly nod, shuffling uncomfortably. "Because every single time that I do, I have to listen to somebody- somebody who doesn't even _exist,_ scream at me, and taunt me, and not give up until I go back to ignoring you and paying attention to him instead. Because I'm crazy, alright? I'm sorry, I really am. You don't deserve to be with me, but I'm sorry because as much as I wish I could just 'act nice' all the time, I can't. I-I can already start to hear it again, won't be long until I'm back to full out crazy again now, will it?"

She finally stops speaking, and we both sit in silence for a minute, her fighting back tears, eyes slammed shut, occasionally hitting herself on the head. Finally, I manage to steel up enough nerve to take a hesitant step forward and speak up. "Roman told me-" she opens her eyes, and I choke up for a moment, but I force myself to fight through it, choking out the next few words painfully. "-that you, you have imaginary friends. Except that they aren't really nice, and that's who you're talking to sometimes. . . right?"

"Ya," she mutters after a long pause, shaking her head. "Imaginary," she says afterwards below her breathe, probably not meant for me to hear.

"You- you know they aren't real though. . . right?" I ask slowly. She doesn't reply at all, just staring blankly at me, her mind in another place. "B-because I used to have an imager-imaginary friend too."

"But then they disappeared."

"No," I shake my head. "One day ma told me that, that they weren't really real, and they were just made up. And she told me that it's okay to have them, but you need to always remember that real people are more imp-" I cut off, trying to remember the word that ma told me.

"Important," she finishes, finally breaking off her empty gaze, shaking her head as she stares down at her hands. "Ya," she says softly.

The two of us stand in silence for a moment, before she looks up at me, her eyes still watery and still staring off into nothing, but a half-smile on her lips appearing for an instant. "Thanks."

"Ya," I whisper, quirking a half-smile, just for a second, before it fades away, and she kicks her feet back up on her bed, and I head off to my own room, the floor dead silent as I crawl back into my bed, except for the racing thoughts in my mind, feeling even more awake than before.

 **Jaycen Choice, 29, CDA Agent**

 **Night before the games, 10:59 PM**

Mayhem doesn't even begin to accurately describe the absolute chaos currently overtaking the CDA HQ. The first terrorist attack on Capital soil in twenty-five years is enough to cause panic from even the most professional Panem has to offer, and not helping the general atmosphere is the fact that three of our agents, including our first and second in command, are KIA, while the third in command currently is wobbling through the halls with a bullet wound in his gut, having bailed out of the hospital too fast to even get pain killers. Not my brightest decision I've made, now that the sleeping gas has worn off and I'm starting to feel the pain for real.

I round a corner, nearly stumbling into a wall as I barely manage to catch myself, propelling myself through the doorway and into the briefing room. As soon as I step into the room, the full realization of how deep of shit we're really in hits me. The president, VP, Head Gamemaker, Assistant Gamemaker, and Games Interviewer are all seated at the round table in front of me, five of the six most powerful men and women in Panem waiting for the Head Director of the CDA to take charge of the situation and come up with a plan of attack. Leaving me, as of one hour ago, the most powerful man in Panem.

Well, damn. That's a bit of a leap from the glorified chauffeur I was earlier today.

"Director Choice," President Young states simply, nodding to me.

"Madam President," I return respectfully, clenching my teeth in an ill-fated attempt to ease the pain I'm currently going through.

"What the hell are you doing, Jaycen?" The Assistant Gamemaker accuses, in a tone just a _tad bit_ less professional than the President and I's.

"My job," I respond simply, wincing as a particularly bad burst of pain ruptures through my gut.

The Vice President speaks up next, sighing deeply. "As much as I hate to agree with Tali, she's right Jaycen, you need rest right now in order to fully recover. Let Johanas take charge of things for now."

"Johanas is dead," I reply through gritted teeth, blocking the image of him from my mind. Later I'll have to relive that moment in order to fully debrief the situation, but I'll pass that bridge only when needed. "And as much as I appreciate my sisters looking out for my well being, I'm afraid there's nobody else left to take the mantle for me."

Tali doesn't seem to much enjoy my response, though Delilah just shrugs it off, and after a moment of tense silence, I continue. "On to more pressing issues," I start, limping over to the head of the table, letting my arms hold me up, gripping onto the glass surface. "We're all gathered here tonight because at approximately twenty-one-fifty-seven tonight, a terrorist attack was carried out on Capital soil at the Du Bois Center, resulting in the death of three CDA agents(including the Director and Vice Director), the escort from District One, two mentors(including the only mentor this year from District One), as well as the male District One tribute, Aurum Lark. Furthermore, numerous injuries were sustained during the attack, including five CDA agents, District Four tribute Marina Rivera, and three Capital civilians, one of which," I glance over at Apollo, and finding him with a completely emotionless face, continue, "was a minor.

"The attacks were carried out with an MK pulse grenade, as well as six-currently unidentifiable-men, all armed with military grade assault rifles. These men were highly trained and wore military grade vests, and were found with nightlock capsules to avoid capture."

"And did any of those men use those nightlock capsules?" President Young asks.

"Yes m'am, three of them took pills, two were killed by our agents, and one was executed by an ally after receiving a bullet to the stomach."

"So we're talking about trained men, then?"

"In my humble opinion, most definitely. Special ops level, perhaps even."

"While I understand the importance of finding the men responsible for this attack," Head Gamemaker Dawson interjects. "I feel we must currently attend the pressing matter of District One. They lost their teenage tribute, as well as their escort and only mentor. We need a replacement mentor, and more importantly tribute, by the time the games start."

"And what is the exact ETA on that?" I ask.

"We planned on starting at Nine AM, but due to the. . . circumstances of the arena, we can push it back to as late as Twelve if needed. However, we'll need the tribute by Ten AM still."

"So we're running on a timeline of just under eleven hours to get a new District One tribute to the Capital, how exactly do we plan on achieving that?"

"Random selection of eligible tributes from District One," Young replies instantly, "aged twelve to eighteen. No volunteering, no reaping, just select the random name, and transport them to the Capital."

"Tali?" Head Gamemaker Dawson asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Already on it," she replies, clacking away at her laptop. "We uh, have backup plans in place," she explains without looking up, apparently sensing the confusion in the room. "One of which is a database of all eligible tributes from each District at any given time. Just randomly select one of the names, and we're all set on that."

A tense silence hangs in the air for a minute as Tali focuses on her task, before she finally pulls up the name. "Gloria Martez, eleven-years-old, but turning twelve in just an hour. Unless you want me to have the program pick another name-"

"No, that will do," Dawson says. "I've never been an overly superstitious person, but I know an omen when I see one."

"Good way to confuse the hell outta the audience," I joke humorlessly, attempting to fill the silence in the room. "So, I'll dispatch a squad of Peacekeepers to collect her and put her on a train here ASAP."

"She'll need a mentor," Apollo speaks up for the first time, an odd look in his eyes.

"We'll find one for her and Glory once she arrives-"

"I mean on the Train Ride over here," he cuts me off. "All the other tributes have had days of training, while she's had none, the least she can get is for a few hours of one-on-one with a mentor. We certainly have the time."

I shrug, not really sure how to respond to the situation. "I suppose we can attempt to contact the District One victors and see if anybody is up for it-"

"District One tradition for mentors is very complicated, and they sure love their tradition. I wouldn't count on any of them falling out of line."

"Well," I exclaim breathlessly, not at all sure where he's going with this. "Unless you're volunteering to mentor her-"

"Actually, I am," he cuts me off, a dead serious look set on his face, his gaze still not set on me.

I have no response for that comment, thoroughly confused. While I don't know him personally, from everything I've heard Connie say about him, Apollo seems like the last man on earth to volunteer to do anything Game related in his free time.

Dawson seems just as thoroughly confused, as he tilts his head at him, raising an eyebrow. "Apollo, are-"

"Yes, I'm feeling fine. Yes, I am sure that I want to fill in as the District One Mentor. No, this does not have anything to do with Coira. Now, if we're done wasting time, I'd say that me and some Peacekeepers have a train to board, and you guys have some terrorists to catch."

I glance at Apollo wearily, but decide not to continue pushing any further. "Alright, well, good luck and safe journeys Apollo, as for the rest of us. . . " I plop down in my chair, letting out a deep sigh. ". . . let's get to work."

* * *

 **25th Place: Aurum Lark: So, this is a thing. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while, and decided that to really push the impact of the attack, there had to be some serious consequences, hence, a tribute dying. Aurum was a solid Career. He was nothing groundbreaking and crazy, but you need guys like him in stories, because "If everyone is special, then nobody is." Unfortunately for him, due to my canon distances between districts, the one to die needed to be from District One or Two, and in the end, he was the one that out of that batch I saw as the most expendable. Aurum, you may have been a bit of a prick, but you had your motivations, and had a soft side to you. I'm sure you're little brother will miss you, and while you may be the first to kick the bucket, I can promise that your death will not be a pointless one.**

 **A/N: Heh. Ya. So the games are ever closing in, we're soooo close now! Also, pre-games death, these are getting popular now, aren't they? In my defense I planned this before that trend started, but I'm just a super slow writer(or really just lazy, I didn't write for 2 weeks then wrote this whole chapter in 1 sitting) and really long-distance planner. We've now been introduced to all of the Capital people that you'll need to know(I promise there's no more), and the real meat of this story is starting up, both in the games and out of it. Just two more pre-games chapters left now until we're in the games! Make sure to let me know what you think of Fey, Jaycen, and the story in general!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Any Predictions about what's up with Apollo? Bonus point if anybody actually gets it right.**


	25. Going Through Changes

**A/N: Just a quick note, Gloria is 12 as of midnight, so technically saying she's twelve in the header is wrong, but eh.**

* * *

 **Gloria Martez, 12, District 1**

 **Night before the games, 11:59 PM**

 _~And just today I looked at your picture, almost if to say,_

 _"I miss you" subconsciously, wish it didn't end this way._

 _But I just had to get away, don't know why,_

 _I don't know what else to say, I guess I'm..._

 _I'm going through changes~_

The room sits in a shadow of darkness, the only light the dim flickering of twelve orange dots of flame. Surrounding the lights are six shadowy faces, just shapes in the darkness. An arm clings around my right leg, helping to calm the jitters in that one, though doing nothing to quell the steady shake in my left. Taking in a deep breath, I glance towards the clock mounted on the wall ahead of me, the green numbers reading 11:59.

In just one minute I'll officially be twelve years old. That means I'll be eligible for the games. It means that at the academy I'll get put on the official leaderboard, instead of being rewarded with stickers like little kids. Tomorrow I'll enter into the academy, and right at the front, displayed to the whole District, everybody will see my name right at the top of that list. The shoe-in tribute(no, victor) for the 107th Hunger Games.

"Go ahead Gloria," my mothers voice says in monotone.

Another peek at the clock confirms that it is now officially midnight, and I let out a squeal, not caring that mother and father are probably glaring at me disapprovingly for it.

"Make a wish!" Incredible reminds me through a muffled voice, her head still tiredly buried into my pajamas.

I nod my head, not paying any mind to the fact that nobody can even see the gesture, focused intently on the candles in front of me. In my quick scramble for a wish, I decide on the obvious one, even if I don't need any extra luck to win the games. Another wish flashes across my thoughts, but I pay it no mind, burying it away, smile plastered onto my face. Today is a happy day. The best day. Nothing can ruin it.

Not wasting any more time, I lean over the table, making sure to not accidentally kick Creddi, and take in a deep breath.

 _I wish to win the games._

The second the thought finishes, I let out my breath, blowing out almost all of the candles, a second breath taking out the rest. My siblings all clap, a few drowsily offering me congratulations, though it's obvious all of them just want to go to bed. Hey, not my fault I was born at _exactly_ midnight, guys.

Once my father turns on the lights, Wonder is the first one to move, his blanket dragging against the ground as it drapes behind him. He offers a quick "happy birthday," before turning and leaving the dining room, headed downstairs to his room. Valor and Victor are next, the twins both muttering "congrats" in near-unison before turning tail and racing away, apparently finding new energy pretty quickly. Finally, Honora leaves, not saying anything, instead just nodding in approval before leaving.

My mother and father both do pretty much the same as Honora, though I can't as easily tell whether or not their nods were in approval. I never have been able to read those two, no matter how much the trainers compliment the leaps I've made in my abilities at reading other's emotions.

With everyone else gone, only Creddi and I are left in the dining room, and after a minute of continuing to allow the pure giddy that I'm feeling to course through my veins, I let out a content sigh, snapping back into reality. When I look down, I find Creddi dozing off, and carefully pry her off my leg, easily holding the light three-year-old over my shoulder. After clearing off the table of the scorched candles, I leave the dining room, and begin to trek up the stairs to Creddi and I's room. Just as my foot hits the second step, however, a loud pounding comes from the door.

Sighing deeply, I plop down the stairs, shifting Creddi to my left shoulder as I open the door with my right, twisting the wooden door knob and yanking it back in frustration.

"Wha-"

"Gloria Martez?" A husk voice cuts me off, the only thing visible in the pitch black night the shadow of a very tall Peacekeeper, flanked by four equally huge men.

"Yes?" I ask confused, though I'm not given any more time to wonder, as he reaches out and yanks my free arm away, barely holding on to Creddi as I'm spun around and dragged outside.

Only a quarter-second of a scream escapes my lips before a gloved hand is clamped over my mouth, Creddi taken from my arms and rudely tossed inside, the door slamming shut behind her as I'm slowly dragged backwards, my bare feet not getting any traction on the stone ground.

In a last ditch effort I bite down on the middle finger of the hand, successfully loosening his grip enough for me to slip free of his grasp. Knowing that running won't be possible, I spin around, putting all my force into a kick aimed straight at the man's groin, succeeding in sending him straight to the ground just before he can recover.

I hear the footsteps of another man behind me, and send a sweeping kick towards him blindly, but he grabs my leg out of midair, tugging it harshly, my back slamming against the stone floor, taking the breath out of me, as I roll on my side in pain. Before I'm able to recover, a syringe pierces the skin of my shoulder, and the effect is immediate, my vision going blurry, no amount of fighting helping to keep my eyelids from sliding shut.

* * *

 _Despite everything that had happened the last week, life went an with an odd normality to it. It was surreal, really. So much had changed in the blink of an eye, and yet still the world went on. Everybody else acted as if nothing had even happened, as if their whole world hadn't just flipped on its head. And because everyone else moved on, so did she._

 _Mom and dad didn't even seem to notice the difference, and Honora, never one to disappoint them, acted the same, even though she knew that inside, Honora felt even worse than she did. The twins were too fixated on each other to even acknowledge anything else, and Wonder and Creddi were still too little to comprehend what was going on._

 _But she understood. She knew exactly what it meant when she saw the arrow lodge itself in her sister's forehead. Knew that she would never see Mercy again when that canon went off._

 _It seemed to her at the time that nobody else did._

 _The Martez family was used to getting front row seats to all sorts of formal events. But a funeral was a first. All of them, even little Creddi, were decked out in all black clothing, straight faced aside from the wailing of an oblivious, hungry one-year-old. She had managed to keep herself presentable for most of the funeral, surprising herself with how absolutely numb she felt about the whole thing. But once the casket closed, and the realization that she would never, ever, see her sister again fully set in, any feeling of numbness disappeared. It set in right as the chorus began singing, and no matter how hard she fought it, the tears wouldn't stop. She choked out sobs, tears staining her cheeks and dripping to the floor, her sleeveless dress unable to wipe them from her eyelids._

 _She felt alone, an outcast. The rest of her family didn't care, and neither did anybody else in the whole entire damn world. The next five months of living with that realization hit her hard. She already struggled in her classes, not caring enough to shoot for anything more than passing, but this pushed it to another level. She didn't know if it was possible for a ten-year-old to fail her classes, but she was certainly going to find out._

 _It wasn't until the Victory Tour that things changed. She had forced out thoughts of Mercy ever since the Funeral, but now she was put up on stage, put into that same dress, and forced to listen to a girl who never had even met her sister, give her a eulogy. To act as if she gave a damn._

 _Things went about the same as the funeral had at first. Her family with a complete lack of care, while she desperately fought off tears, not wanting to cry in front of the whole country. Just as she couldn't hold it in anymore, and tears began to trail down her cheeks, a soft crying filled the air, the only sound audible sound filling the otherwise empty void. When she glanced over, she found the source of the increasingly louder sobs: a girl, just a couple years younger than her, and practically a spot-on clone of herself, standing on the podium with an emotionless family._

 _The image burned itself into her memory instantly, a mirror of her own life shown to her, and the effect it made on her was immediate. The tears on her cheeks dried, the shake in her hands stopped by a tight clench. A whirlwind of emotions hit her, and emerging from it was only one thing: absolute, untamed anger._

 _Anger at the girl on stage who got to live instead of Mercy. Anger at the dead boy from three who had killed her sister. Anger at the mirror image in front of her, that girl's family not even caring about any of that, just like her own family didn't. But above it all, seeing the looks of pity from the crowd at the sobbing girl in front of her, she felt anger at herself. For being just like that girl. For being weak. Her sister was taken from her, despite doing nothing to deserve it, with nobody else giving a damn, and what had she done? Cried about it?_

 _No, not anymore. Right then and there, she promised to herself that she would change. That she would never cry again. That she would go to the academy the next day and work her ass off, until they had to let her go into the games. She didn't fully understand how, or why, but all she knew was one thing:_

 _Mercy would not die for nothing._

* * *

My eyes burst open, gasping for air as I shoot up in my seat, head on a swivel. A quick scan of my surroundings and I'm able to place myself on a train, seated in a velvet red recliner chair, leaned back heavily. In front of me is just a coffee table stacked with magazines, and then a hallway beyond it.

"Mornin' sleepyhead." I jump up out of the chair, turning around towards the source of the voice, only to see a man, who I quickly place as Apollo Thompson, leaned back in a recliner, a lazy smile on his face, a newspaper spread out on his lap. Past him one look out of the window tells me that it most definitely is not morning time, with the sky still as pitch black as before. He seems to follow my gaze, shrugging. "Well, not really morning, but close enough."

"What-" He holds up a hand, and I cut myself off, eyeing him curiously.

"Sorry about the kidnapping thing, I told them you would come willingly, but you know how Peacekeepers are. Procedure and all that, you sure gave 'em hell for it though, didn't you?" He jokes, chuckling to himself.

"I still don't understand. . . ." I trail off, scratching the back of my neck, glancing around at the rest of the room. Aside from the two recliners and coffee table, there's only a dining table with two dining chairs set next to it, and a TV mounted on the wall. Otherwise the whole room is decked out in all white, only a few windows of black darkness breaking the pattern.

His expression drops, becoming much more somber, and he dodges my gaze, avoiding eye-contact. "Look," he sighs, "I know it isn't fair, but something happened to Aurum Lark, the teenage tribute for District One, and well. . ." he locks eyes with me, "you're going to the games to replace him."

Whatever response he was anticipating, he didn't seem to expect the delightful squeal that I let out. "You mean I get to go to this years games?" I exclaim, a mix of shock and excitement flooding my systems.

"Ummm," he replies, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes narrowing, "yes?"

Another squeal comes rises from my throat, and I have to force myself to calm down, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Best birthday ever," I whisper to myself, too quiet for him to hear, a wide smile breaking out over my face.

"Well," Apollo says in a strange, almost disappointed, tone of voice. "You sure seem to be taking that news well." He tosses aside the newspaper to the floor, stretching out as he stands up, motioning over to the dining table.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask, still giddy over the news, bouncing over to the table, sliding into the wooden chair.

He slowly drops into his seat opposite of me, a grimace on his face that he quickly hides. "I guess I didn't expect you to be so enthusiastic about the whole process, from what I knew about you."

"That was two years ago," I quickly answer, suppressing the memories that float around in my head. I'm not going to let this moment be ruined by anything.

"So you changed," he finishes, stealing the words from my mouth.

"Ya," I affirm, quirking a grin. He doesn't respond in kind, still a plain look on his face, his real emotions hidden beneath. After a moment of silence, I decide he isn't going to respond, and pop the question I'd been wondering since I saw him. "So, why are you here then?"

"Lucian and Helix are dead, leaving you mentor-less," he responds simply.

"So you're my mentor then?"

"Yeah," he sighs, looking at something behind me, though I keep my gaze locked on him. He's trying to get my to look away from him, for whatever reason it might be. My personal trainer that my father got me a few months ago taught me that trick as a way to divert people's attention. We'll just see if I don't look away, if I'll find out why he's eager to get me to.

The two of us sit in silence, him looking past me, while I stare intently at him, locked in a battle of patience for what feels like hours but was probably just a few minutes, before he finally breaks, glancing back to me, his emotions still hidden under a mask of indifference. "So, I assume you aren't an idiot and will ally with District partner, and based on your enthusiasm I assume you want to join the rest of the Career pack as well?"

"Yup and yup," I affirm. "Mind giving me a scouting report on Glory, if you have one, so I can know who I'm being tethered to?"

"I think you already know everything you need to know about her," he replies curtly.

"Do I?" I respond in mock innocence. "Oh, you're right, her being my doppelganger is all I need to know about her."

Apollo doesn't seem at all amused, or fooled, by my act, staring right through me. "I know you haven't forgotten a single moment of that day. Nobody forgets standing on that podium."

"And what about it?" I ask, not holding back the anger from my voice anymore, shooting daggers at him. This is the best moment of my life, and he's trying to ruin it by bringing up Mercy. Does he think I don't know what happened to her?

"Stop playing stupid, Gloria," he replies, still using that completely monotone, know-it-all, holier than thou voice. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to me?" I exclaim, laughing humorlessly. "I lost my fucking sister, that's what happened," I shout at him, my cheeks flushing red.

"And your 'doppelganger' lost her brother, but you don't see her getting a hard-on over the idea of killing little kids."

"Stop acting like you know me," I shoot back. "You did one five minute interview for me two years ago. Just fuck off and leave me alone if you don't want to help me."

"You know what, you're right," he says, holding his arms up in the air, the slightest bit of frustration slipping past his mask. "I don't know you, but I've met people like you, and let me tell you: the person you used to be, that I actually do know, is a hell of a lot better than the person you are now ever will be."

"Oh, so that's what it is, huh?" I laugh angrily. "You want me to be weak? Be a sniveling little baby, cry in your shoulder about how unfair all of this is. Maybe get all soft and tear up about how much I miss my sister during my interview like Glory? Well guess what, I'm not like her, and I won't ever be again."

"See that's the problem with you guys," he mutters. "You all think that being 'strong' is being an emotionless, unlikable bastard. You think if you never show your weaknesses, then they don't exist, and that makes you stronger, right? Well let me tell you, that girl that I met two years ago was ten times stronger than the one sitting in front me right now."

I kick back my seat, pounding down my fists on the table as I stretch myself up as tall as possible. "What the fuck do you want with me?"

He stares back at me calmly, locking eyes. "I want you to ask yourself one question. Would that girl two years ago be proud of who you are now?"

Before I can get the chance to answer, he stands up out of his seat, suddenly towering over my short stature. He pulls a remote from his pocket, hitting a button to power on the TV, before tossing me the remote and wordlessly leaving me alone, flipping off the light on the way out.

Once he's left the room, I look over to the television, the only source of light in the room, and see plastered on the screen six words that cause my breathe to get caught in my throat, only the untamed curiosity I'm feeling being enough to make me click play on the 98th Hunger Games Final Eight Interviews.

Once I do, I'm immediately met with the image of my younger self, twirling my hair nervously-it took my a while to kill that habit- while I sit on the sofa, Apollo interviewing me from off screen.

I instinctively bring my hands up to my bare shoulders, suddenly feeling cold, wishing that I had worn something other than a tank-top and PJ's.

 _"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Gloria, your sister has said great things about you."_

 _"Thanks," I respond in just above a whisper, clearly a nervous wreck about doing the whole thing._

 _"So the reason we're speaking today is obviously because of your sister, Mercy, so can we hear a bit about your relationship with her?"_

 _"She's awesome," I say just a bit louder and more confident this time, "I just hope she comes home soon, I'm starting to miss her."_

A pained feeling hits me in the gut, and I nearly double over in pain, tears threatening to spill over as memories of that interview that I'd previously forced myself to forget, resurface. Bringing my head down into my lap, I shut my eyes, covering them with my hands for good measures, forcing out those thoughts. This is supposed to be the best day ever. It can't get ruined. It can't. This is everything I've dreamt of, no, lived for, for the past year and a half. This moment has to be perfect. It has to.

 _"I'm a bit lonely without her," I admit sheepishly, my cheeks flushing pink. "She's my best friend in the world, I don't know-"_

I don't allow myself to hear the rest of the sentence, letting out a muffled scream into my shirt, and, without thinking, throwing the only thing in reach-the remote- as hard as I can at the television, the screen cracking as it makes contact with the center, the volume morphing into nothing as the screen flickers to darkness.

Just like that, I'm left in dead silence, the room pitch black, in a desperate attempt to empty my mind against a million racing thoughts.

Desperately, hopelessly, alone.

* * *

 **A/N: Here we are, our final(I promise this time) tribute, Gloria Martez. She has a longer chapter than anyone else because she is only just now being introduced, and so this is to make up for lost time, so to speak. I'm officially done with classes, which means you guys can expect to be seeing these coming out much more regularly than before, so hopefully we can get this show on the road. Next chapter is the final pre-games before we get into the arena, so I hope you guys are all as excited as I am for that! Otherwise, make sure to let me know what you think of both Gloria and my writing this chapter!(I experimented with some 3rd person in the dream portion and am particularly curious what your guys' thoughts are on that compared to my usual 1st person)**

 **Also, make sure to vote on the poll on my profile!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Thoughts on Gloria? Where does she fit into your previous predictions and/or favorite tributes/pairs?**

 **Trivia(1 point): What's your favorite alliance? Why?(chart below in case you forgot)**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona, Marina, Celeana

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara

 **The kids Are Alright:** Kieran, Spark, Oake, Mabel, Dakota, Nova

 **Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei, Fox

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine

 **Imaginary Friends:** Fey, Noa


	26. Breakeven

_~I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing_

 _Just prayin' to a god that I don't believe in~_

 **Audra Lee, 15, District 5 Mentor**

 **Morning of the games, 11:00 AM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

My shaky hands clutch around the warmth of the cardboard cup of coffee, downing another gulp of the stuff, more out of habit than actual need by this point. To say I'm a complete and nervous wreck would be an understatement. Last year was already nerve-wracking as it was, being my first year, but even that experience can't hold a candle to the stress of this year.

Between Caleb giving me more responsibility, his increasingly worrying alcoholism, the insanity of navigating finding sponsors, the mountains of paperwork for said sponsors, being the mentor for a _five-year-old,_ this whole mess with the. . . business that I've gotten dragged into, and then a bombing the night before the games start. . . Thank the maker for the existence of coffee, because without it I don't think I'd be alive right now, much less awake.

Helping to relieve at least a fraction of the stress is the fact that half of the room looks no better for wear than I do, though the Career Victors, and, oddly enough, Dalton, all seem to be doing perfectly fine. Never mind the fact that the District One mentor died, or in Dalton's case- his co-mentor. Caleb always has told me that I'm the only non-psychopath Victor, and even though I disagree with that for the most part, it isn't hard to see where he'd get the idea.

"Another coffee?" Caleb's gruff voice calls out from behind me, loud enough for the entire room to hear(well-those that aren't passed out at their desk at least). Spinning around in my chair, I chug the rest of the cup, letting out an exaggerated sigh when I finish, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt.

"Another beer?" I reply sarcastically, motioning to the bottle held shakily in his left hand.

"Liquor," he slurs, "For your information."

"Even better."

"Seriously though, kiddo," he sets down the bottle on his half of our shared desk, sliding into his chair. "I'm cutting you off, stuff is bad for you."

"Thanks, dad," I reply with an over-dramatic eye roll.

"Makes ya act nasty, too, why don't you get some rest, I haven't seen you catch a minute of the stuff the past few nights. What are you running on- two hours in the last two days?"

"Four, actually," I mutter in response, spinning back around, straining my eyes to make sense of the words on the screen ahead of me.

"I'm not kidding, Audra," he says, with one motion of his hand clearing my screen, sending all the forms over to his own instead. "Get some shut eye, I'm not about to let you turn into an insomniac. They don't tend to be very helpful." He whispers the last sentence, motioning over to the pair of District Four, winking at me dramatically with a goofy grin.

"Pfft," I exhale, shaking my head, resting my chin on the table. "You're such a dork," I murmur, letting my eyes rest for just a moment.

He doesn't respond, the only sound coming from him the constant tapping of keys, interrupted only occasionally by a long gulp of his drink. No matter how hard I fight to keep my eyes shut, the adrenaline(and caffeine) rushing through my systems doesn't allow me to drift off to sleep, and after what feels like an hour of fighting, I allow my eyes to slip back open, keeping my chin on the table as I steal a glance over at Caleb. His face is set in a determined expression, completely oblivious to anything outside of his work, and I shift my eyes to the other side to see the District Four pair both in the same zone.

"How we doing?" I yawn out, switching to resting the side of my head over my crossed arms.

"Decent," he replies, attention still fully on the screen. "Fox is rolling in sponsors, and Armie may not be getting many himself, but his ally is starting to set records."

"Less paperwork for us," I murmur.

"Amen," he mutters.

The two of us fall silent at that, and I turn my head the opposite direction, deciding to at least pretend like I'm trying to fall asleep, for Caleb's sake. He has enough to worry about as it is- even more than I do- and the last thing he needs is me adding any more unneeded stress.

In the distance I make out a clock, and my breath catches for a moment, a wave of worry rushing over me that I quickly dispel. Just under an hour left until the bloodbath. Memories of last years games rush over me, the sweet boy that I was mentoring. His head rolling away from his lifeless body, the screams that escaped my throat, the mixed looks of pity and annoyance from the rest of the room as Caleb carried me out, kicking and screaming.

Swallowing heavily, I let out a deep breath, and pray to a god that I don't believe in, that this year will be different. That I won't spend a train ride back to District Five with a coffin. That I won't have to sit up on stage during the Victory Tour, unable to look at the families who I failed. That I won't spend another sleepless night, the dying screams of the kid I couldn't save haunting me.

 _Please_.

 **Tristan Bay, 27, District 12 Mentor**

 **Morning of the games, 11:20 AM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

They took Nova and Dakota just over an hour ago. Factoring in time to put in implants and board all the tributes, that puts the travel time to the arena at. . . not much. Which makes sense, given the fact that it's a quell arena, and as such is probably not just some random area of nature they quarantined off. Only forty-five minutes now until I get to see exactly what that arena is. As long as they put Dakota and Nova close to each other I won't even care whatever hellhole they decide to put them into, just give them that _one_ thing.

I've mentored twenty tributes to their deaths now. Out of them, only one measly one even managed to make their way to the final eight, and he got taken down immediately after. That fact would be bad enough on its own, and not combined with the knowledge that was told to me by a particularly. . . 'close' sponsor, that the higher-ups are still a bit iffy on District Twelve due to our history of tribute's actions in finales, and do their best to avoid that particular situation. Not that I can particularly blame them for that thought(one of us hid in a cave where their tracker's signal was jammed until they were the last one left, one used a force field to win, one was. . . well, Katniss, and then of course there's my dazzling finale), but it still hurts nonetheless. Living with the knowledge that all of my tributes will be actively targeted. . . and it's not like I can just not get attached to them. Especially with this years twist. . . .

I spam the refresh button on my screen, checking for any sponsors, but none show up, and after a minute I slump back, groaning in frustration, resisting the strong urge to fling the whole screen backwards. _Deep Breaths, Tristan. In. . . Out. . . In. . . Out._

Opening my eyes, I take a tentative sip from my water bottle. It's been a long time since I've gotten this stressed out about. . . anything, really. It's just frustrating to have tons of Capitalites gush over your tributes, promising to sponsor them, and then never hear from them again. I was at least hoping for a few sympathy sponsors for Nova, but instead the only thing I got are the regulars. Which in District Twelve's case consists of two old men with sympathy for a District that makes underdogs look like powerhouses. Last year the list of regulars was four, but one of the trio of senior citizens passed away, and the 'close friend' has moved on to other, most likely younger, women. I shudder at the thought of who he's targeted next, and don't allow myself to dwell on the thought, deciding that to be a question I don't want the answer to.

My thoughts are(thankfully) interrupted, as the rest of the room immediately goes silent, the Career mentors all snapping out of their seats in the corner of my eye. Following their gaze, I spot Apollo entering into the room, though instead of stopping at the entrance to make an announcement, he continues walking wordlessly and expressionless, all the way to the District One desk, where he seats himself.

A soft buzz spreads through the room, and Caleb glances over at me, the two of us exchanging shrugs. Caleb taps Audra on the shoulder, whispering something into her ear, the effect on her being instantaneous. She shoots up from her previous position of(seemingly) sleeping, backing up to steal a glance at Apollo, who is still calmly setting himself up at his station, setting down a few photos and notebooks from a bag onto his desk.

Audra jumps out of her seat and hastily makes her way over to Apollo, while Caleb glances back to me, dumbfounded, earning another exchange of shrugs. Hesitantly, he climbs out of his seat and over to me, stealing a currently unused chair from District Eleven and rolling it over to my desk.

"So," Caleb starts, beginning to take a drink from his bottle, but after remembering who he's speaking to, setting it down wordlessly. "That was interesting."

"Quite," I reply, snatching the bottle from Caleb, dumping the rest of my water bottle into it, earning a childlike "aww" from him.

"You done being my mother?" He teases lightheartedly after a moment of mourning his drink.

"Not until you stop being a child," I reply in kind. Rolling his eyes, he turns around to steal a glance at Audra, who has now dragged a chair over to the District One table, talking animatedly to Apollo.

"Looks like Audra found a friend."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic, weren't you the one who was all worried a few months ago that she was being un-social and all that?"

"I was worried about that five minutes ago, and for good reason, she hasn't spoken a single word to anyone outside of her family, tributes, or us two in the last eleven months."

"She seems pretty chatty right now," I comment, glancing over to see Audra still talking. "I don't think I've seen her say that many words since. . . ever." A silence falls for a moment, and I shrug. "Maybe she bonded with him during the mentor interviews."

"Ya," he murmurs, mind clearly in another place. He begins to walk back to his station, but I yell him down before he gets too far, and toss his bottle to him.

"Take your trash, ya alcoholic," I joke, earning a smirk from him, though no response as he turns tail and heads back to his desk.

Sighing, I kick the now-empty chair back over to Eleven's station, leaning back into my own. Something about this year is different, I can just feel it. It's all I can do but hope that it truly will be.

 **Apollo Thompson, 44, Fill-in Mentor for District One**

 **Morning of the games, 11:30 AM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

". . . because even though he said that he didn't, I totally knew that he did. . ." I nod my head absentmindedly, attempting to keep up with verbal vomit that has been coming from Audra from the last five minutes. Finally she pauses to catch her breath, and I take my chance to jump in.

"Whoa, hold up there, you're giving me flashbacks to Noa's interview here," I joke, holding up my hands. "How many cups of coffee have you had?" I ask, motioning towards the empty cup clutched in her hands.

She shrugs sheepishly, cheeks rosy in embarrassment. "Six, I think, maybe more."

"Let's stop it at six then, alright?" I suggest, noticing the heavy shaking of her entire body. "I know District Five mentors have a storied tradition of entering detox, but I'd suggest waiting a few years before going down that path."

"Ya, probably a good idea," she admits. "I was just really tired, and didn't want to sleep through the bloodbath."

I have to physically bite down on my tongue to avoid the next words from coming out of my mouth, instead slowly nodding in agreement, instead settling for a safer set of words. "Couldn't fall asleep after last night?"

"Yeah," she says in just above a whisper, hugging herself in an attempt to hide the shudder that runs through her body.

"Me neither."

A thick silence fills the air for a moment, Audra staring down at her feet. While she gets lost in her thoughts, I wander through my own, thinking over the past few hours.

My interaction with Gloria certainly went different than I expected to, not that I should have really anticipated anything else. I should know better than anyone else how good the Career Districts are at brainwashing kids into being enthusiastic about the games. With her parents it's really just more of a surprise she lasted as long as she did.

But that doesn't mean that I'm gonna give up on her. She doesn't really buy into any of the crap about her bringing honor or glory(dammit- I forgot to do that pun during the interviews, didn't I?) to her District. She's doing this for revenge for Mercy. Why she feels that winning the games will avenge her is a mystery I'll never fully understand. No matter why, though, I'm still going to do my best to get her home. People like her- once they get out of the games, they tend to come back to their senses. Another thing I know better than anyone else.

"I've just been so stressed out about. . . well, everything," she says exasperatedly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"You're forgetting to sleep, new mentors always do that. Makes the whole experience about ten times worse than it really is."

"When am I supposed to sleep though?" She exclaims in frustration. "What if they need me and I'm asleep, I-"

"You can't think like that," I interrupt her. "You can't help your tributes if you're running on fumes. C'mon, you should get some rest."

"No," she resists, shaking her head rigorously, unable to hide the heavy droop in her eyes. "I can't miss the bloodbath," she murmurs drowsily, clearly in desperate need of sleep.

Glancing around the room, I drop my voice to a whisper. "Insider information: trust me when I say that your tributes will be fine for the next few hours."

She stares me down wearily, battling internally on whether or not to believe me. Eventually the fatigue in her seems to win out, her body drooping back into her chair. "You wake me up if _anything_ happens though, right?"

"Of course."

"Alright," she murmurs, eyes slipping shut right as the words slip past her lips. It isn't long until she drifts asleep, her head slumping onto my shoulder. Sighing, I lean back in my own seat. I'm really going to do this, aren't I? I sure am good at getting myself into messes.

Oh well, retirement sounded boring anyways.

 **Coira Thompson, 31, Fill-in Hunger Games Announcer and ex-CDA agent**

 **Morning of the games, 11:50 AM**

 **Announcing Booth, The Games Center**

"And the clock is now 11:50 AM, we are just _ten_ minutes away from the moment you have all been waiting for all year: the beginning of the games. With so little time left until starting time, what are your last minute predictions for the arena?" Alexa asks, a broad grin plastered onto her face.

"I'm not sure," I stall, trying to rack through my brain for why in the world Alexa would ask that question when both of us already know exactly what the arena will be. Or at least, I do. Maybe she doesn't? "But whatever the Gamemakers have pulled together, I'm sure it'll exceed any expectations we possibly could set."

"Definitely, they always do tend to do _brilliantly_ with quells, just take the 25th Hunger Games for example-" I zone her out as she rambles on about every last detail of all three quell's arenas, instead stealing a glance at the sleeping form across the room, slumped over on a beanie bag, out cold. Given everything that happened last night, it's a miracle that Connie has managed to get any sleep at all, though I guess the sheer stress of everything just wore her out completely.

I bite my lip nervously, still unable to shake the worry from my system. She's perfectly alright physically, thank god for Jaycen, but who knows the impact that the whole mess could have made on her emotionally. There's nothing I'd like more than just being able to relax at home with her right now, fall asleep for the next twenty-four hours or so- but that isn't an option anymore. While I don't full understand why Apollo had to leave to fill in as the mentor, I know enough to let him do what he needs to. He loves to be all cryptic and enigmatic, but once enough time has passed, he always spills the beans to me on his real reasoning. I just have to be patient.

For now I'll just focus on two things: priority one being Connie(aside from the obvious problem at hand, she also grew worryingly attached to Armand, who, frankly, doesn't have the best odds of coming out of this whole thing alive), and second being this job. Everything else can wait until afterwards to be dealt with. Well, aside from the whole mess with Audra- which I've sort of forgotten about during all the craziness of the past day. I'm sure Apollo is dealing with that, though. Hopefully.

". . . and what about you, what do you like to see in an arena?" Alexa questions, finally finishing her rant.

"Well-" I start, though before I can answer, the screen directly ahead of me, showing us on air, goes to static, cutting quickly to a news channel, _breaking news_ flashing in bold red letters at the bottom of the screen.

I glance over confusedly at Alexa, who seems just as lost as I am. The confusion doesn't last long however, with the simple sentence appearing at the bottom of the screen chilling my bones, stopping my breathing, Alexa clutching onto my arm the only thing stopping me from falling straight out of my seat.

 _Breaking News: Nerve Gas bombing at Snow Elementary School, initial reports expect full casualties. . ._

Breathlessly, I shake free of Alexa's grip, stumbling out of the booth, sliding against the door as it shuts behind me. My gaze slowly, nervously shifts over to Connie, allowing myself to let out a bated breath upon seeing her. My eyes stay locked on her, afraid that if I look away for even an instant, she'll be gone.

Slowly, I make my way over to Connie, dropping down into the beanie bag next to her, running my hand through my hair roughly, my breathing moving from non-existent to hyperventilation, only slightly calming down with time. As gently as I can with my wildly shaking hand, I run my hands through Connie's soft hair, the physical contact serving as another reminder to my panicking self that Connie is completely, perfectly fine. She didn't go to school today. She's right here, resting, completely unharmed.

I can feel eyes on my back, and turn around to see a small assembling of men and women, producers and tech people for the broadcast, all glancing at me worriedly.

"I'm alright," I choke out unconvincingly, forcing a weak smile.

"Coira-" one of the producers starts, "if you need some time-"

"No," I answer, shaking my head, calming my breathe, digging my nails into my palms to stop the shaking. "I'm fine.

"Let's do this."

* * *

 **A/N: AHHHHH NEXT CHAPTER IS THE GAMES ARE Y'ALL AS HYPE AS I AM! So this is a bit of a filler chapter, developing some characters, and pushing the plot along. Just as a note for future chapters, I'll be leaving eulogies at the end of the chapter where the character dies, so don't scroll too far down absentmindedly(*cough* Celtic *cough*).**

 **Also, since the games are next chapter, I've finally had to put together a sponsor list :P**

 **As to not give away anything about the arena, it'll be posted on my profile once next chapter is posted.**

 **Trivia(1 point): You get to give one District(not counting your own tributes) immunity for the Bloodbath, who do you choose?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona, Marina, Celeana

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara

 **The kids Are Alright:** Kieran, Spark, Oake, Mabel, Dakota, Nova

 **Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei, Fox

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine

 **Imaginary Friends:** Fey, Noa


	27. Day 1: It Time Pt 1

**A/N: I love summer.**

* * *

 _~It's time to begin, isn't it?  
_ _I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit  
_ _I'm just the same as I was  
_ _Now don't you understand  
_ _That I'm never changing who I am~_

 **Glory Fairfax, 9, District 1**

 **Day 1, 12:00 PM**

 _Beep! Beep! Beep!_

I groan as the alarm goes off, thankfully stopping after just three beeps, allowing me to stay in bed, rolling contently over to my side. "One more minute," I murmur softly, rolling up the blanket to my shoulder. I feel a breeze on my face, and shift uncomfortably, in the process bumping my head against something.

Letting out a soft "ow," my eyes flutter open just a peek, to see myself right in front of me, fast asleep, her breath blowing against my face. My eyes begin to slowly slide shut again, before my brain makes the connection, my eyes widening instantly, a scream escaping my lips as I fight against the covers, kicking my way away from my clone.

As if a mirror of myself, she has the same reaction, her emerald green eyes flipping open, a scream followed by scrambling away, one of her thrashing feet kicking me, giving just enough of a boost to send me off of the bed, landing on the carpeted floor with a thud.

"Ugh," I groan, rolling onto my back.

After a moment, the sound of movement on the bed stops, and the girl peers over the edge of the bed from a foot above me. "Sorry 'bout that, you scared the hell out of me, you alright?"

In response I stare through her unblinkingly, scrunching my nose in confusion. "Who? What? Where?!" I ask through bated breaths.

"Gloria Martez," she replies to the first question, rolling off the bed and onto her feet, bending down to offer up a hand.

"Glory Fairfax," I respond tentatively, taking the hand up wearily, dusting off my clothes, just some fuzzy pajamas and a a white tank-top. Glancing over at Gloria, she's wearing the exact same clothes, which in combination to her being pretty much a spot on clone for myself, really makes this a bit weird, to say the least.

"So, uh, you don't know then? Or were you just still half-asleep?" She asks, jumping up to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Don't know what?" I reply, staying standing on the ground, cross-armed.

"Aurum's dead," she says offhandedly, shrugging. "So now I'm here!" She chirps enthusiastically, offering a bright smile.

"I-" I start, but my words cut off, the full impact of the words hitting me. Aurum is dead. I guess I should be feeling sad about that, he was my partner after-all, but much to my surprise-and disgust- I don't really feel much of anything. But what about this girl, is she really telling the truth? Maybe she's a mutt designed by the Gamemakers, that would explain why she looks so much like me. Which, speaking of the Gamemakers- am I even in the arena yet? "Where are we?"

The two of us take a moment to take in our surroundings, finding ourselves in a room similar to the one I stayed in at the training center. Aside from the large, king-sized bed that we were sleeping on, there's a table with the alarm clock on it, a medium sized, clunky television similar to the ones we had back at home, and a bathroom in the corner of the room. All across the floor is a beige carpet, the walls a velvet red, no windows(or anything for that matter) covering them aside from a wooden door directly across from the bed.

"That," she says, scratching the back of her neck. "Would be a good question."

 **Marina Rivera, 17, District 4**

 **Day 1, 12:03 PM**

 _Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Me eyes shoot open, automatically swinging my feet off the bed, stumbling a bit when the fall is further than I anticipated. I do a double take for a moment, something about this room feeling off. This isn't my room in the training center, and looking down at my clothes, a pair of pajamas and light blue tank-top, only adds to the feeling of uncertainty.

The final nail in the coffin comes from the alarm clock, the red numbers reading 12:03, far past both the time for. . . an aching comes from my head, and I let out a groan leaning back into bed. That god-damned headache again, it just makes it so hard to concentrate on anything. The doctor called it a concussion, told me that it was just a minor one and that I was lucky. With the massive sharp pain in my head right now, lucky wouldn't be the word I would use, but I'm not exactly eager to find out what a major concussion is like.

A soft sobbing comes from behind me, and I glance around to find yet another surprise, Celeana curled up in the fetal position on the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks, a few panicked murmurs escaping her lips. Clutching onto my head, I force myself to concentrate. The games were supposed to start hours ago, and Celeana is with me in a room I don't recognize. Even that much effort causes another sharp throbbing, and I lie back into bed, letting out a groan.

"Fuck this," I murmur, resisting the temptation to smack my head against the edge of the side-table. I attempt to shut my eyes again, to get back to at least feeling nothing, but the throbbing doesn't dissipate at all, and within a minute I give up on that attempt, sliding off and onto my feet, doing my best to ignore the wails from Celeana, which just amplify the aching.

Attempting to get away from her, I head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me, the pain dulling slightly in the complete darkness. Letting out a sigh, I stumble around the room, finding my way to a sink, and once there let a stream of cold water run, splashing the cooling liquid onto my burning forehead.

After a minute of that, I allow myself to bring a cupped handful of water to my lips, the water soothing my scratchy throat, earning a deep sigh from myself as I slump down to the tile floor, my head resting on the rug. It's hard to resist just staying like that, but before long the reasonable portion of my mind reminds me where I (most likely) am, and I snap back into my senses, and onto my feet. The light of the lamp assaults my vision when I walk in, and I quickly fumble around for a light switch, flickering it off.

"Wakey, wakey, princess," I call out to Celeana, who's sobs have now quieted down to just a soft whimper. "It's showtime."

 **Armand "Armie" Machina, 5, District 5**

 **Day 1, 12:04 PM**

 _Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Groaning, I turn onto my side, clutching onto my pillow, burying my head under it to block out the sound. Beside me there's a loud shuffling as somebody tosses and turns on the bed. "Be quiet, Frank," I murmur through a muffled voice into my pillow. My message doesn't seem to get heard, the bed still rumbling as he shifts around. "Frank," I moan, tossing away my pillow and turning to face him, forcing my drooping eyes open. Immediately as I do, I realize the figure in front of me isn't Frank, but instead Fox. The yelp escapes from me automatically, tumbling backwards, getting myself tied up in the sheets as I stumble off the bed.

"Christ," he mutters, as I fight against my sheets, hopping to my feet once I finally free myself. Once I do, he just rolls his eyes at me, and begins to walk around the room, checking every square inch of it, while I stand awkwardly, still confused about what's going on, but too afraid to ask him if he knows.

While he fumbles around with the television, I slowly creep over to the door, Fox not seeming to notice as I slip it open and sneak out. After I step out of the room, I immediately find myself in the middle of an empty hallway, just one door directly in front of me, and then walls stretching out to both sides. Not able to work up enough courage to enter the mysterious room, instead I turn left and begin walking down he halls, finding another two rooms on my left, before the hallway ends, and I'm forced to turn right.

Ahead of me I can see another room at the end of the hall, as well as a door labeled _exit_ on the left. Steeling myself up, I walk up to the metal door, and attempt to push through, but the door doesn't budge. Sighing, I turn around and continue exploring, seeing if I can find an exit that actually works.

At the end of the hallway, next to a room in the corner, the walls turn into one massive window, and I hesitantly creep my way towards them, peering out the glass. Nothing is visible, a foggy cloud blocking sight past five feet, a bright white light the only thing making it way through the thick fog.

Slowly backing up, a shudder runs through my body, and I hug my shoulders. I can't be scared. I have to be strong. I bet Am isn't shaking in fear right now, all I have to do is just find her and I'll be fine. Just keep on looking, you'll find her.

Ahead of me is another hall, similar to the first one, the only difference being the windows replacing the wall. Shakily, I continue walking down it, fighting of the shivers running through my bones.

 _I can do this._

 **Boaz "Spark" Ash, 8, District 7**

 **Day 1, 12:10 PM**

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes drooped in fatigue. My hair has been wet down for the most part, though a few strands still poke out in every direction. Yawning, I splash a handful of water at my face, shaking it off vigorously, jumping up and down a few times in my spot.

Feeling energized enough, I step out of the bathroom which I just entered a couple minutes ago, and find Kieran still in bed, out cold. Deciding after only a split-second that leaving him alone to sleep is the best course of action, I begin to explore the rest of the room to see what I can find.

No matter how long I search, though, I can't find anything aside from the obvious television, table, and alarm clock. The TV turns on, but only shows static and makes an annoying noise, so I turn that off soon after. With nothing else in the room to explore, I head out the door, being careful to not close the door too loudly behind me.

Once out, I don't have to go even two steps before I'm met with a new room to explore, a double door with _kitchen_ scrawled in cursive above it. Rubbing my hands together, I shove the door open, keeping my fingers crossed for something good.

The room that I enter into is about twice the size of the bedroom I was in, filled mostly by empty counter-tops- a few fridges, freezers, and ovens lining all of the walls. Feeling just a twinge of disappointment towards the lack of food prepared, I head towards the fridge, hopes still high that I'll find something worthwhile.

The first fridge I open is completely white, only blocked out by a bit of dust and cobwebs. Brushing them away, I pry open the door, and my breath is taken from me as I do. Goodbye Hunger Games, hello ham, turkey, and roast beef slices, all packaged in neat little plastic boxes. Pulling out the container nearest to me, I pop a slice of ham in my mouth, letting out a moan as the sweet flavor hits my taste-buds. Just as good as in the Capital, you just hit the jackpot, Spark.

Tossing the box back in, I close the door and decide to check out the rest of the fridges. The yellow one has milk and cheese blocks, the black one has a few fruits and veggies, and the glass one I don't even have to open to see that it's completely empty.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of pride at my discovery, I bound back towards the bedroom, flinging open the door to announce the news to my District partner. "Hey, Kieran!" I yell excitedly from across the room, earning no response beyond a slight shift in his sleeping form. "Guess what I just found?" I try again, even louder and from a closer distance this time. I earn the same reply, however, and move to his side, shaking his arm in an attempt to wake him. "Hey, Hunger Games and stuff, you might wanna get up!"

Nothing, not even a shift this time. Giving up, I let out an exaggerated sigh, heading out the room, slamming the door as loudly as possible behind me.

Oh well, his loss. Let's see what else I can find.

 **Alt Lovelace, 14, District 3**

 **Day 1, 12:30 PM**

This floor isn't as large as I initially anticipated. At first I thought we were at a hotel, and would have dozens of rooms on just this floor, potentially with other tributes in them. Instead there's just a measly eight rooms on our floor, and I would assume every other District is in a similar situation. Out of those eight rooms five are like the one we started in, one is completely empty, one is filled with cleaning equipment, and one is a kitchen, right in the middle of the whole floor, stacked with enough food and drink to last about a week if rationed correctly. Aside from the rooms, there are three exits on the floor, a staircase on either end of the floor, and an elevator the opposite side of the kitchen from the starting room.

Furthermore, the staircases and elevator are all locked, a sign on them reading that they'll be closed for maintenance on the first of June, AKA, today. Seems like the Gamemakers want to set a record for least tributes killed on the first day.

"What did you find in that room?" I ask Lei, who has just got done 'searching' the southwest(or what I assume is southwest) room. Of course I plan on actually searching the room once he's done toying around, but it gives him something to do and makes him feel like he's part of the team. Both of which keep him off my tail and out of my way.

"A bed, just like the one in the first room, and a mini-fridge," he replies cheerily.

"Anything in the mini-fridge?"

"A bunch of drinks."

"And you didn't drink any of them?" I ask wearily, not liking the sound of this at all. Giving us a week of rations makes sense, but any more than that? I assume they don't want tributes camped out in their rooms for too long.

"Didn't even touch 'em," he announces proudly.

"Good," I reply with a deep breath, motioning across the hallway. "Go check out the northwest room."

Nodding enthusiastically, he dashes off towards the room, and I enter into the southwest room, headed straight for the fridge. In it, exactly like he said, are drinks, about fifteen bottles of soda, wine, and water. Hesitantly, I pick up one of the bottles of water, the label on the back catching my eye. An ingredients list for water?

 _Ingredients: Water, Poison_

"Christ," I snort, shaking my head. "Subtle."

Setting the bottle back in, I can only wonder who the unlucky dumbass to drink that will be, and thank Snow that his name wasn't Lei Park.

 **Shade "Don't call me Shadow" Reinfield, 15, District 11**

 **Day 1, 12:45 PM**

So this arena is certainly interesting. Aside from the lack of a bloodbath, we've already found a weeks worth of food and drink, and are locked on this floor for the next day. While I appreciate the safety, I really wish they would've gone the extra mile and let the television work, because Amandine's whining about her boredom is already driving me insane forty minutes into the games.

Currently she's on the floor, playing with her doll(thank goodness she chose to bring a toy as her token), while I continue to scout out the rooms on the floor. So far we have the TV room, the cleaning room, the mini-fridge room, and the massive kitchen in the center. I still haven't fully figured out what the building we're in is, though my bet is on an apartment building at the moment.

I open the door to the next room, and find it to be much like the mini-fridge and TV room, having just a bed and one other special item. What does make this room different, however, is the item in it: on display in a glass casing above the bed, a freshly sharpened, unsheathed katana.

Letting out a low whistle, I go over to the case, searching the glass case for an opening, which I find on the right side of the case in the form of a lock. So somewhere on this floor must be a key, then. Well, no need to change my plans at all then, just be sure to check the rooms even more thoroughly than before. And even if I don't find the key, I suppose it won't be the worst thing in the world. I tried using the katana a grand total of once during training, and gave up with it after one swing of the flimsy piece of metal. While the trainer made it look deadly, in my hands it was more like a glorified string that I can slap my opponents with.

After searching the room from head to toe and coming up with nothing, I exit the room. I glance out the window for a moment, still just a bit unsettled by the fog outside of the building. It clearly isn't natural, so that begs the question of why the Gamemakers gave us windows if they're going to then block out all of our sight. It has to mean something, but like so many other things in this arena, it just doesn't seem to make any logical sense.

Shaking it off, I walk past it, and my eyes land on the elevator, the purple lights above it(the same color as our tank-tops we've been dressed in) read off the time as being 12:52, as well as informing me that we are currently on floor eleven. Real creative, Gamemakers.

So if the maintenance is just for June first, then that most likely means those elevators and staircases are unlocking at midnight sharp, and I would bet on the Careers being ready for that time. So, even if I have eleven more hours until that time, it can't hurt to prepare in advance.

"Hey, Dina," I call out in my sweetest voice. Keeping up the appearance of being best friends with her will be tough challenge to my patience for the next few weeks, but is a necessary difficulty.

"Ya," she calls back, eyes perking up at the idea of doing something.

"You remember those brooms that we saw in the one room?"

She pauses for a moment to think, then nods slowly.

"Good, let's go and grab some of those for a super important project, okay?"

"Okay," she replies happily, whispering something to her doll excitedly.

We have eleven more hours of safety, and I'll be dammed if I don't do everything possible to keep that timer as far away as possible.

* * *

 **A/N: WOOOO! I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE ACTUALLY HERE! Thank you everyone for sticking around for the ride until now, and buckle up cause we got a heck of a ride ahead of us. So a lot of things happening this chapter, if you have any questions feel free to ask and (as long as it isn't something that I didn't explain on purpose) I'll try to explain it to you. I'm gonna upload a (crappily drawn) map of what the starting floor looks like if your more of a visual type of person.**

 **So the POV's were all pretty short here since I want to give all 12 Districts a POV on day 1, but past the first day expect the POV's to be a bit longer, with less of them per chapter(more like 3g**

 **-4 instead of 6).**

 **The sponsor info is on my profile, as is a poll you guys should all go and vote on! Make sure to review and let me know what y'all think of the arena, lack of bloodbath, first interactions, etc.**

 **Trivia(1 point): What did Shade describe the Katana as being like for him?**

* * *

 **Current Alliances:(Notable possessions of the alliance are listed below their alliance name)**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona, Marina, Celeana

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara

 **The kids Are Alright:** Kieran, Spark, Oake, Mabel, Dakota, Nova

 **Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei, Fox

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine

 **Imaginary Friends:** Fey, Noa


	28. Day 1: It's Time Pt 2

**A/N: Would've had this chapter out yesterday for the 4 day streak, but my wifi died again, so RIP the dream.**

* * *

 _~The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell right to the top_

 _Don't look back_

 _Turning to rags and giving the commodities a rain check~_

 **Mabel Beech, 11, District 10**

 **Day 1, 4:00 PM**

"God, my head," Oake moans for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes, rolling in the bed as he clutches his head.

"Ya, that tends to happen when you're an idiot and drink beer the night before the games," I snap at him, continuing to scrounge through the room in an attempt to find that key. I've spent the last two hours searching for it, ever since I saw that rifle in that glass case, and if I don't find it soon I just might have to give up on the key and smash the case open. Maybe use Oake's thick head, not like he ever uses it anyways.

"Ugh," he moans in reply, continuing to toss and turn, clutching a pillow over his head.

"Oake," I call in an attempt to get his attention.

"Ugh."

"Oake!" I say, louder this time, and after a moment of no reply, I yank the pillow away from him, tossing it to the floor.

"What the hell?" He murmurs, planting his face into the bed sheets. I don't pay him any mind though, my focus instead on the shiny object on the floor, directly next to the pillow. The key. I snatch it up from the ground, clutching onto it, dashing out of the room faster than I've ever run before in my life.

"Hey, can I at least have my pillow back?" Oake calls out, but I ignore him, rounding the corner and sprinting down the hall, back to the room with the _rifle._ I'm going to have a rifle. Let's see those hotshot Careers try me now.

It takes me a moment to fumble open the door knob, my hands slick on the metal, and once I manage to open it I force myself to calm down. No need to rush things, you still have eight more hours until those doors unlock.

Slowly, steadily, but still with a slight anticipatory shake in my hands, I crawl up onto the bed, and insert the key into the lock, letting out a relieved breath when it fits, the satisfying pop of the lock coming with the twist of the key. The case open a sliver, I pull it open the rest of the way, and carefully lift the rifle out of the case. It comes with no instructions whatsoever, which is a tad bit worrying, but shouldn't be too much of a problem. I learned how to handle a pistol, I should be able to figure out how to use a rifle too.

The rifle looks, and turns out to be, mostly wooden, metal used only in the spots where I assume the bullet travels through, and the trigger. It takes me a few minutes of fiddling around before I'm able to find the place for the bullets, pulling on a black ball attached to the center of the rifle revealing an opening.

My expression falls the instant it opens, the chamber completely empty. They gave me a rifle without any bullets, what in the world am I supposed to with that?

In response a loud beeping sound can be heard in combination with the creaking of a window just outside the room. I sling the strap over my shoulder, the rifle lightly clacking against my back as I run out just in time to see one of the large window panes sliding shut, a box left on the floor just in front of it.

"Huh, I was wondering how that was gonna work," I mutter to myself, bending down to my knees to check out the box, a tiny wooden case that can't be longer than three inches, a simple white note-card tied to the front.

 _Make it count_

Already having a strong idea of what's in the box, I giddily unwrap the note, sliding open the box to find. . . one bullet. Well, better then nothing, I guess.

 **Otto Baxter, 16, District 9**

 **Day 1, 4:45 PM**

Izaak has been full of surprises the last few hours. It's been pretty obvious from as soon as I met him that he wasn't exactly normal, but the more that I see him in action the more apparent it becomes just how different he really is.

Throughout the whole time in the Capital, while the other smaller kids around his age all flocked together(or were forced not to by their partner), he stayed by himself. Instead of going to the more worthless, but fun, stations like swimming, he spent his time learning survival skills. While everybody else socialized at lunch, he quietly ate, glancing around the room, halfway seeming like he's trying to analyze everyone else like Alt, halfway trying to just act normal.

Every time that I tried to interact with him, he would seem so normal too. Sure, he could talk his head off, and his vocabulary was a bit big for someone his age, but he seemed sociable enough whenever I talked to him. Same thing goes for his interview, a bit off-putting, but nothing too crazy.

But now the enigma that is Izaak Ackerman has taking an even stranger turn. While I wouldn't exactly call myself smart, I wouldn't consider myself to be dumb either, so when my barely-seven-year-old district partner solved every mystery about this arena before I even got the chance to, I feel that I have the right to be confused.

First there was his memory, having a knack for remembering every detail about all the rooms after just glancing around inside of them for a minute. He even remembered the full ingredients list for the drinks in the mini-fridge. Not because I asked him to, no, he just memorized it automatically after just a cursory glance.

The glass case with the knife in it had me stumped for a bit, but Izaak went right to work, finding the key in just a couple of minutes, explaining innocently that it was just a "lucky guess." But while he may be good at a lot of things, lying is definitely not one of them, and though I haven't pushed him on it, I plan on figuring it out soon.

"How's the counting going?" I ask Izaak, quickly tallying up the amount of fruits in the fridge.

"One gallon of two percent milk, and one 16 ounce block of cheddar cheese," he announces dully, slowly shutting the fridge door.

"Just a few apples, a thing of grapes, couple sticks of celery, and some oranges in here," I reply wearily, pretending to be interested in one of the oranges in my hand. That type of response is exactly the type of thing that's starting to confuse me about Izaak. What kid is specific enough to say the amount of _ounces_ _of cheese_ that we have.

Izaak seems to notice my weariness, shuffling awkwardly. "What?" He asks uncomfortably.

Eyeing him for just another moment, I shake my head, slamming the fridge door shut. "Nothing."

 **Alerio Weissman, 18, District 2**

 **Day 1, 5:55 PM**

The last six hours have been trying.

First there was the mess of Fiona- horrible, mean, probably psychopathic Fiona- having a nightmare and being in tears in her sleep. I would say that it was a big moment for me where I started to see her as less of a sadistic machine, and more of a human being, if not for the fact that when I tried to gently awake her from her dream I got a punch to the jugular, followed by a rather vicious hair pull. So ya, not much sympathy gained there.

And then I had to deal with her over-eagerness to escape this floor and, in her own words, 'go kill some kids.' Lovely girl, really. Patient, too, as I learned from the un-broken hour of her attempting to smash her way through the metal doors. Meanwhile, of course, I got the intriguing task of searching the entire floor for a key for two hours, the tenuous task ending with the tantalizing reward of. . . a knife. A knife which Fiona stole from me in all of three seconds, and then dulled to a barely lethal point while attempting to shimmy open the door.

But wait, there's more! Fiona apparently ate a lot of candy last night, and that did not seem to agree with her stomach very well, so guess who get to spend an hour cleaning up her vomit? That task at least wasn't a total loss, though, as I have made a rather interesting discovery regarding the cleaning chemicals they gave us. More specifically, the fact that they gave us all the chemicals needed to create a rather powerful explosive.

That particular fact is staying a secret to Fiona for the time being, however, to avoid the inevitable request to use said bomb to blow up our own door- or on me, with how well today has gone thus far. So instead of working on the bomb, I'm just going to kick back and relax, while Fiona continues to pace around the whole place, completing a lap every few minutes.

To give her credit, her inability to be inactive has led her to discover a few things in the past hour of exploring. She managed to find a single bottle of wine in the mini-fridge that didn't have poison in it, took full inventory of the kitchen, and is now apparently attempting to measure the size of the room based on number of steps.

Useless, but harmless. Fifty-percent better than most of her shenanigans, anyways.

Ahead of me, next to Fiona's meticulous footstep measurements, the clock on the elevator ticks to 6:00, and I let out a deep breath, sliding myself further up the wall I'm leaning against, allowing my eyes to slip closed.

Six hours of rest, I think I've earned it.

 **Noa Jacquard, 15, District 8**

 **Day 1, 7:00 PM**

I focus intently on my target, a random spot in the wall with a slight mark in it, and slowly notch back the arrow, holding in my breath for a moment, keeping all my focus on the spot, and release.

The arrow cuts through the air, sticking itself into the wall with a satisfying thud. Walking over to pull the arrow out, I find that the arrow only missed the target by a few inches, a decent shot all things consider. Always knew that bow and arrow practice would pay off, and wouldn't you have it, the one weapon I ever trained with was gifted to me in a glass case. Having more than one arrow would be nice, but I can make do, as long as I don't accidentally break it while practicing.

Yanking the arrow out of the wall, I head back to the opposite end of the hallway, planting my feet to steady myself, preparing my next shot. Notch the arrow back, focus on the mark, deep breath, release.

The arrow cuts through the air, though before it can hit its mark, a young boy steps out from seemingly nowhere, turning around just in time to see the arrow enter into his eye, the force of the shot flinging him back, pinning him against the wall, just a few trails of blood trickling down his eye.

A scream escapes my lips and I fling the bow out of my hands, dropping to my feet and scrambling backwards until I collide into a wall, my scream echoing throughout the halls as another, younger voice screams out my name from farther down the hall. My head snaps to the direction of the call, just in time to see Fey scrambling around the corner, glancing around the room with wide eyes, skipping over the boy and going directly to me, her look of worry quickly being traded out for one of confusion.

"Why did you scream?" She asks breathlessly, though I'm unsure whether it's from the running or stress.

"The-" I start, pointing towards the dead boy, though cut myself off when I find him gone, replaced by just an arrow, lodged into the wall. I glance back to her, and after seeing her same expression of confusion, let out a sigh, smacking the side of my head.

She seems to understand the unspoken revelation, slowly backing around the corner to get back to whatever she was doing, leaving me alone again in the hall with my thoughts. I hadn't seen a single hallucination the past hour, even Calico's constant voice silent, though I guess that hoping for it to last any longer was just wishful thinking. It's been. . . odd seeing my normal hallucinations after the meds they gave me in the Capital. I remember thinking so clearly that night, knowing that Calico and Charles were just in my head, but now. . . I'm not so sure anymore. Call it just me kidding myself, but everything about it, it's just so _real._ How am I supposed to tell what is and isn't? Who's to say that my whole stay in the Capital so far isn't one massive hallucination? That I'm not just wandering around some abandoned factory in District Eight right now, my parents searching for where the heck I've wandered off to.

"You hungry?" Fey's voice chirps up nervously, wobbly offering up a sloppily made sandwich.

I nod, and she hands it off to me, sliding against the wall next to me, rolling an apple in her hand and contemplating whether or not to eat it. "Thanks," I say softly, taking a bite out of the turkey and cheese sandwich gratefully.

"Ya," she replies quietly, head seemingly in another place as she shoots her gaze between her apple and the arrow in the wall. After a minute of hesitation, she quickly pops to her feet and hands the arrow to me, just as I finish the last bite of my meal.

"What's up?" I ask with a full mouth.

"I bet you can't hit this apple in mid-air with that," she challenges.

"Oh really?" I reply with mock-cockiness, stringing back the bow and preparing myself for a shot. "Whatcha willing to bet?"

"Loser has to make breakfast for the winner, in bed," she quickly adds, a sly grin on her lips.

"Your on."

Not giving another moment of preparation, she tosses up the apple high and away from us, and channeling my inner marksman, I track the apple, focusing on a spot in its path and releasing.

The arrow flies out of my bow, sliding just below the apple, the feather at the end scraping up against the apple as it falls before it buries itself into the wall.

"I'll take orange juice and some grapes," she teases me cheekily, earning an exaggerated eye roll from me.

Watching her take a quick victory lap around the room, giggling madly as she spreads her arms out wide, I can't help but think that all things considered, as crazy as it might be: I really do hope that is real.

 **Amara Ekkal, 7, District 6**

 **Day 1, 8:20 PM**

"I'm sooo bo-ored," I whine, leaning back against the wall, kicking my feet up into the air lazily.

Zarach looks up from sitting on the ground cross-legged, fiddling with the bow and arrow for a moment, glancing at me confused. "You can go to sleep if you want," he says, immediately after going back to focusing on his bow.

"But I'm not tiiired," I drawl out, slouching away from the wall and onto the ground, slowly spinning myself around in a circle as I push my feet against the wall to propel myself across the carpet, tongue poking out from my lip in determination.

"Alright," he murmurs out, clearly not even hearing what I just said.

After completing a full 360, going back to my original position of leaning against the wall, an idea strikes my mind, and I immediately straighten up. "I know!"

"Mhm," he mutters.

Rolling my eyes, I crawl over to him, yanking the bow out of his arms. "Zarach!"

"What?" He sighs tiredly, holding out his hand in expectation.

"We can play a game!" I announce, handing him back the bow, but keeping a hand on it still, so he can't stop paying attention to me.

"What kind of game?" He asks, with that same tiredness in his voice. He really needs to take a nap after this.

"Truth or dare, me and my friends used to play it _all_ _the time._ " Alright, so that's kind of a lie, we only played it once a few weeks ago, and it ended with a big fight: but that was _totally_ Rain's fault for not wanting to tell the truth when I asked her who was her crush. Or, well, I guess I probably shouldn't have asked her that, but. . . meh.

"Alrighty," Zarach sighs, setting down the bow and arrow next to him, while I excitedly rub my hands together. "But only one round, then you go to bed."

"Deal! Me first though!" I exclaim, shuffling around on the carpet, racking my brain for ideas.

"Truth or dare?" He asks lazily, a tiny smirk appearing on his lips for just a second.

"Truth," I reply instantly, a goofy grin forming on my lips.

"Alright, since you seem to like spilling the beans on who other people are crushing on, what about you, who's that _special someone_?" He asks, barely hiding a grin from me as he attempts to keep a straight face.

"Noooo," I bellow dramatically, shaking my head. "Pass."

"Hm, I don't think you can 'pass,' unless you wanna chicken out that is," he teases, raising a daring eyebrow.

My eyes glance over to the corner of the room, where a camera is focused on the two of us, and I feel my cheeks go hot. There's no way I can let Zarach call me a chicken, but. . . I _really_ don't wanna answer that question. At all.

He seems to take my silence as an answer of defeat, and he finally allows that sly grin to creep onto his lips. Crossing my arms over-dramatically, I shoot an exaggerated threatening look towards him. "Alright, smart guy," I say. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Who's _your_ crush?" I ask the instant the word 'truth' escapes his lips.

"Don't have one," he answers, after just a moment too long of hesitation.

"You know what's even worse than a chicken?" I ask innocently, then before he gets the chance to answer, finish, "A liar!" Poking him in the chest.

"Okay, Miss Chicken," he teases, earning a sharp glare, rubbing his necklace(a gem- he told me it was really just glass- attached to a chain) nervously. "If you really want the _whole world_ to know, there's a girl named Liane from my work."

"Ooh la la," I fawn, mock fanning my face. " _Liane._ What's she like, is she cute? I bet she is, isn't she?"

"Oh my goodness," he groans under his breath, causing a fit of giggles from me. "Alright, come on, you gotta go to bed, a deal's a deal."

"I know, I know," I reply in defense, throwing my hands up. "We're _totally_ playing this again though, you're telling me more about _Liane._ "

"Good luck with that, buddy," he yawns out. Before I can stop it, I yawn as well, and I shake my head, my eyes starting to droop shut, my legs suddenly feeling heavy.

There'll be plenty of time tomorrow to squeeze out every detail of Zarach's love life. For now though, maybe sleep isn't such a bad idea.

 **Dakota Marshall, 14, District 12**

 **Day 1, 9:25 PM**

I hold the broadsword in my lap, examining myself in the reflection. My wavy, dark brown hair is a complete mess, scattered around my head, a few strands drooping down my forehead and in front of my hazel eyes- the fatigue obvious in them as they droop tiredly. No time to sleep now, though, not when the doors unlock in just under three hours. Who knows what the Gamemakers are going to throw on us at midnight. The Capital has got to be getting bored after a full day of no action; I wouldn't put it above them to give us a late bloodbath, starting when everyone is sleeping.

If they do try to pull that on us, then I'll be ready. Aside from the broadsword that I now have, the doors have been fully barricaded, all but one of the beds dragged out to either side of the floor, blocking off the three entrances. The only pieces of furniture unmoved are the bed that the two of us woke up on this morning, with Nova currently using it up to get some sleep, and the television in that same room-it refusing to budge no matter how hard I pushed.

Nova fell asleep two hours ago, bored out of his mind. Him going on a 'scavenger hunt' for the key was a fun distraction for him, as was the adventure of exploring all of the rooms, but watching me moving furniture tired him out pretty quickly, and it wasn't long before he was off to bed.

I'm snapped out of my memories of the day by a high-pitched ring coming from across the hall, and I quickly am on my feet, running to the source of the sound, broadsword dragging against the carpet behind me. The ring is quickly replaced by the sound of the Panem national anthem, and I swing around the corner into the starting room, initially surprised at the fact that Nova is still soundly asleep.

My attention is quickly turned away from that, however, and to the television, where the seal of Panem is currently displayed clearly. Despite not hearing any canons go off, I can't help but hold my breath, wondering if I somehow missed a death.

The screen doesn't change from the seal, though, and after the anthem finishes, the screen clicks back off, leaving the room cloaked in darkness. Let Nova get his rest, he needs it.

With the sword lugged over my shoulder, I stroll back over to the elevator, taking the long route around the kitchen to get back to my post. There's a long night ahead of me, and whenever the time comes for me to act, life or death: I'll be ready.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, day 1 is officially in the books! Gotta be a record for least deaths in here lol. So, same deal as last chapter with short, relatively uneventful POV's, but now that we've got the first day done, and have checked in on all 12 districts, expect longer, more action-packed POV's in the coming chapters. Otherwise, make sure to be sponsoring, PM me if you have any questions about that and I'll help you out with it. Something I didn't mention in the last chapter which I REALLY should of as well: sponsor prices increase across the board by 5 every other day(so day 2, 4, 6, etc.). So keep that in mind.**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed, make sure to let me know what y'all think! We haven't seen much, but from what we have, what are your thoughts on the arena?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Did yo** **u like or dislike the lack of a bloodbath?(be totally honest, this is important feedback for my future arenas) Why?**

 **Current Alliances:(Notable possessions of the alliance are listed below their alliance name)**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona, Marina, Celeana  
 _Katana, 2 Knives_

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_

 **The kids Are Alright:** Kieran, Spark, Oake, Mabel, Dakota, Nova  
 _Bolt-action hunting rifle, 1 Bullet, Broad sword_

 **Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei, Fox  
 _Knife, Rifle_

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak  
 _Knife_

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana_

 **Imaginary Friends:** Fey, Noa  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_


	29. Day 2: Carry on Pt 1

**A/N: 5 chapters in 6 days. Welp, who needs a life. . . or food(gogurts and hot pockets _are_ my life). Make sure to vote on the poll on my profile if you haven't, and keep showing the support! Your guys kind words has been the motivation for me to continue writing through some of the tougher portions, so thank you all for sticking through this story, even with all the inconsistency I had earlier on. It really brings a smile to my face every time I see your guys' comments, so thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your continued support, it really does mean a lot to me.**

* * *

 _~You swore and said we are not_

 _We are not shining stars_

 _This I know_

 _I never said we are_

 _Though I've never been through hell like that_

 _I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back~_

 **Fiona Graham, 7, District 2**

 **Day 2, 12:00 AM**

 **Floor 2**

An excited squeal escapes my lips as the clock ticks to 12:00, a loud clicking clearly signifying the doors unlocking. My hands are moving automatically, going out to shove the doors open, but Rio's are there first, grabbing at my wrists, stopping me.

"Hold on," he says cautiously, turning around and glancing wearily at the rest of the room.

"You're such a buzzkill," I moan, unable to yank myself free from his strong grip, but still trying anyways, if only to at least be minorly annoying to him in any way possible.

"Just be patient," he lectures, releasing my wrists and nodding at me. As if he needs to give me approval to do things. Jerk.

"Always," I respond brightly, pushing open the doors, swinging them open as I step out, Rio behind me, knife gripped in his right hand. The sight that meets us is a bit underwhelming, just a simple staircase, and a pretty drab one at that, plain grey walls and metallic steps without a hand railing. The air is dank and musty, and I choke as I step into the air, waving the air in front of my face. "Ugh," I groan.

"Makes me wonder what kind of 'maintenance' they were doing yesterday," Rio jokes dryly, then after a moment, shaking his head, continues on forward, putting on arm on my shoulder to move me behind him. "Let's get a move on."

Swatting away his hand, I shoot a glare at the back of his head as the two of us head to the left side of the staircase, moving down a floor. Rio hesitantly plants his foot on the first step, and is rewarded with a loud creaking that sends a shiver through my spine. "Can't we just take the elevator?" I moan, rubbing my shoulders furiously, the cold and dampness of the area combining to make it absolutely freezing. It maybe wouldn't be such a big problem, if not for the fact that all I have to wear is a tank-top, which for the record: is the worst arena outfit _ever._

"If this is what the stairs are like, do you really trust their elevator?" He asks with that same sarcastic dryness in his voice that's seriously driving me insane already. I actually feel like I might try killing him by the end of the week, our lives being tethered or not.

Instead of voicing this, I just begrudgingly grumble in acceptance, cringing as the step creaks under the weight of my foot. Once I get to there just being three steps left, I leap the rest of the way down, nearly colliding into Rio as I stumble into his back, him barely catching my hand as I begin to fall backwards. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I mutter out a thanks, shoving away his hand.

Rolling his eyes, he turns away and steps towards the large double doors with the number _1_ printed in white above it. "Ours was in black," he comments simply, stroking his chin. "Wonder what that means."

"That the Capital likes using lots of colors," I say with a dramatic eye-roll, attempting to walk by him to open the door, only to get held back mid-step. "Can we just go meet up with Aurum?" I whine, getting impatient with Rio, and wanting to talk with a real Career for a change.

"Alright," he grunts, pulling open the doors. Being to the side of him, the only sight I get from the open door is just a sliver of the same velvet red walls as were on our floor, and just an instant afterwards, a katana shoved inches from Rio's throat. Rio being the coward that he is, throws up his hands immediately. "It's just us, Glory," he states calmly.

In response the katana is pulled away, and Rio steps in the room, me hot on his heels. "Where did you guys get a katana?" I ask, a surge of jealousy coursing through me. "And why in the world is _she_ using it?"

Just as I step in the door, I turn to face Glory, a cheeky grin in place, but am instead met by the sight of a katana held out in front of my neck. "And what is that supposed to mean?" Glory demands, in a tone much more aggressive than I thought she was capable of using.

Before I get the chance to answer, Glory (wait, another Glory?) rounds the corner quickly, eyes wide. "What's happening?" She asks in that familiar timid tone, slowly approaching us. My glance switches to the katana in my face and over to Rio, who looks equally bewildered, eyes darting between the two Glorys.

"This little brat is what's happening," aggressive Glory responds, her katana coming dangerously close to my nose as she uses it to point at me.

"Uhhh," I drawl, any sense of keeping my mouth shut being overwhelmed by the confusion I'm feeling. "Is- am I the only one seeing this?"

Aggressive Glory raises an eyebrow at me in confusion, her katana somehow managing to inch even closer to my nose, earning a suppressed squeak from the back of my throat. Just as the katana couldn't possibly be any closer to my skin, a light bulb seems to go off in her head, and her eyes widen, the blade dropping to her side, a loud sigh escaping from me as it does.

"Oh, ya," she says sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. "Uh," she glances back to timid Glory, who has now inched her way to just a foot behind aggressive Glory. "So, short story short, Aurum died in that terrorist attack thingy, so now I'm here to replace him!" She exclaims the last portion, a wide grin on her lips. "Oh!" She says suddenly, tucking the katana under her left shoulder, extending her right hand. "Gloria Martez."

I shift uneasily, still not fully comprehending things, though Rio seems to come to his senses a bit sooner, accepting the handshake. "Pleasure to meet you," he offers awkwardly.

"Sooo," I drawl, narrowing an eye as I glance between Gloria and Glory, something still feeling just a bit off about this whole encounter. "You two look awful similar there."

"Ya, pretty weird, huh?" Gloria agrees enthusiastically. While they may look the same, Gloria is pretty obviously quite a bit different than Glory, the most obvious thing being that she sounds like she's just downed a whole pitcher of coffee. "Mother wanted to name me Glory too, but father _hated_ that name, so they settled on Gloria."

"Huh," Rio says, still shifting his gaze between the two. "Didn't you tell me that same story about your parents, Glory?"

"Yea," Glory says wearily, shifting awkwardly. "Exact same story, actually."

"I think your parents got it right," Gloria offers, cheeks flushing just a bit red as she does so, eyes darting to a spot on the wall that I follow to find a camera. "Gloria sounds like one of those big opera singers," she jokes, a slight-humorless chuckle coming from both Glory and Rio, while I continue to stare her down.

All of us sit in a tense silence for a minute, before Glory perks up. "Oh, I almost forgot," she pipes up, running around the corner, coming back just a moment later, three walky-talkies in her arms. "Found these in the basement."

"There's a basement?" Rio asks rhetorically.

"Ya, but uh, it's kind of scary down there," she shrugs sheepishly.

"Aww, is it _really_ dark?" I fawn. "Did you see a _spider_?"

"Well, ya, but-"

" _But,_ " Gloria cuts her off. "There's also a crap ton of traps down there. Maybe you should go down, you'd fit right in with all the mutts."

I shoot a sharp glare at her, my teeth grinding together. "You just be thankful I don't have a weapon on me," I threaten, my fists tightening at my sides, nails cutting into my palms.

"I sure am," she quips, rolling her eyes, turning back to face Glory. "Hey, toss me one of those."

"Give me that knife, Rio," I demand through clenched teeth, not even bothering to face him as I hold out my hand.

"Not happening, kiddo," he responds quietly.

"Not for _that,_ " I respond with an eye roll. "I'm going hunting," I announce loudly. "And I need a weapon, and one of those walky-talky's while your at it."

"Join the club," Gloria says, tossing a walky-talky to Rio, who deftly catches it, nodding in appreciation. "In case you didn't notice, weapons are a bit scarce right now, and even if we did have another, I trust Glory with it ten times more than I do with you."

"Still lucky," I murmur to myself through clenched teeth."Fine," I say to her. "I'll just go hunting bare-handed, by myself then," I announce, turning and marching to head out the doors.

"Great allies you got here," Gloria murmurs to Glory behind my back, clearly meant to not be meant for me to hear. I can hear the loud sigh from Rio as his loud footsteps follow after me, his feet landing with a thud each time he takes a step. His hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn around, expecting a lecture, but instead he just shakes his head, walking past me wordlessly.

Whatever, let him think whatever he wants. And let that brat Gloria say whatever she wants, too. It'll just make it all the sweeter when I gut her at the end of these games, and go back home a victor, while she gets sent back in a cardboard box, to a family that wishes that I were their daughter instead. I just have to wait.

I can be patient.

 **Zarach Eleazor, 18, District 6**

 **Day 2, 4:50 AM**

 **Floor 6**

"Mornin' sleepyhead," I say in a soft voice, earning a groan from Amara, turning around to face the opposite direction. Standing up from my previously crouched position, I tap her on the shoulder lightly. "Come on, Am, we gotta get moving."

"What time is it?" She groans, turning back to me, her eyes fluttering open just a crack.

"Noon," I lie.

"What?" She exclaims, shooting up, eyes widening instantly. A slight smirk breaks through my mask, and her eyes narrow, flopping back down onto her bed. "Liar," she murmurs softly.

"Alright, you're awake now buddy, let's get going."

Giving in, though not without a dramatic sigh and her trademark glare, she slides her feet off the bed, stretching out and letting out a massive yawn. "What's the big rush," she murmurs.

I open my mouth and then shut it, earning a confused look from her, but I ignore it, quickly racking my brain. Amara still doesn't understand the full weight of what the games really mean, and yesterday did nothing to break that idea for her. And while the logical part of my brain is telling me that I should tell her the truth- that this is a matter of life and death- I don't know if I have the heart to do it. Eventually her gaze breaks me, and I cave in, giving a half-truth. "The goal of the game is to make sure that nobody else finds you, like a big game of hide and seek. So we have to move quietly, and when nobody else is awake."

She glances back at me wearily, even in her tired state able to sense that something isn't up. While she may be young, she's still smart, especially when it comes to knowing when I'm not telling the truth. Whatever her thinking though, she must be too tired to fight it, instead nodding, hopping down quietly to the floor.

Quirking a half-smile at her, which she responds with a weak one of her own, I motion for her to follow me out the door. Behind me I hear the dragging of her feet on the carpet, and the two of us make our way to the eastern exit. Looking back, I make sure Amara is still behind me-which she is, even if she doesn't appear to be fully awake yet.

"Where are we going, anyways?" She asks tiredly.

"We're going to go down to the fifth floor and see if we can find Armie."

Her eyes immediately light up at the mention of her friend, and her energy levels seem to about double, a bounce in her step as she rolls her eyes, punching me lightly on the leg. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" She asks excitedly.

Flashing a smile, I go to open the door, and with my hand on the lock, turn around to face Amara. "Alright, Amara, this is super important, so you have to listen to this, okay?" I ask, and when I get an enthusiastic nod, continue. "Once we leave this room, you have to be very, very quiet, alright? No matter what happens, or who you see. We're going to get Armie, and then come back here and you can talk to him then. If anybody sees us, then we lose the game, so we can't let that happen, you understand?"

She bobs her head. "Quiet as a mouse," she whispers, flashing a goofy grin and giggling.

I zip my lips, and she follows suite, a serious look of determination setting on her face. Letting in a deep breath, I unlock the door, cringing at the loud click it makes, then, grabbing the bow and arrow off the ground, slowly back into the door, aiming down every square inch of area as soon as it opens.

Once the door is fully open, and nobody is in sight, I aim the bow to the ground, still keeping the arrow notched just in case. Amara slips out of the door behind me, even making sure that the door closes noiselessly, earning a thumbs up from me. She just flashes a quick smile, her face quickly going back to that same determined look.

The staircase isn't exactly what I expected, and I curse internally once I see the metal stairs going in either direction, and nowhere else to go but up or down. I have to resist the urge to cough, the air thick and dusty, and just a bit chilly- though I blame that more on this stupid tank-top that barely even fits me.

As slowly and quietly as possible, I let my feet down onto the first step, cringing as the metal quietly creaks. Not enough to hear through the doors, but if anybody else is in the staircase. . .

I pause for a moment, listening for any sounds of another person nearby, then, realizing the staircase is empty, quietly step down the rest of the steps, just a bit more quickly than before. Behind me Amara is dead silent going down the steps, and once I reach the mid-way platform, I have to turn around to make sure that she's even behind me, and sure enough, there she is- silently tip-toeing her way down.

"Good job," I whisper as she steps down to the bottom step. She looks up at me to say something, though as she does, loses her balance, stumbling down the final step, her feet landing with a loud on the platform. Her face pales, and my breath holds, listening for any sounds of danger.

It takes just a moment to hear a response, a soft set of footsteps running up the stairs from a floor down. "Get ready to run if I tell you," I say in a low voice, lifting up the bow and aiming it at the corner, a slight shake in my hands as I nervously wait for someone to round the corner.

The footsteps get louder, and my breath holds as I see a foot step around the corner, my grip on the bow tightening, the arrow ready to fly out at a moments notice. The next foot steps over, a tiny leg with it, and it only takes me a moment to recognize the small stature, Armie's face poking around the corner just as I do. Letting out a deep sigh, I drop the bow to my side, hurriedly motioning for him to come hear, bringing my finger to my lip.

He seems to notice the command, a look of relief on his face as he quickly tip-toes his way up the steps, Amara sharing the same look as her breath calms down, her chest still rapidly rising and falling in anxiety. Right as Armie makes it to the platform Amara wraps him in a bear hug, Armie's head buried in her shoulder as the two stay stuck together for a long few seconds. A slight smile forms on my lips, but I quickly shake it off, glancing worriedly around both ends of the staircase.

Motioning for the two to follow, I make my way up the stairs, this time with less regard for noise and more focus on speed. In just a few seconds we're back on the sixth floor, and I open the door, motioning the two in, Amara dragging Armie in behind her, poor Armie's hand white under Am's clutch.

It's not until we're safely inside, the door shut and locked behind us, that I allow myself to breath again, slumping against the door and down to my rear. Taking this as a motion for her to be able to talk again, Amara lets out a squeal, enveloping Armie in another bone-crushing hug. "I missed you," she says breathlessly.

"Me too," Armie says, quite literally breathlessly.

Amara, seemingly realizing this, eases up, finally letting go of Armie, but still grasping onto both his hands, holding onto it like it's her lifeline. "Where were you yesterday?" She asks curiously.

"And where were you going today?" I add on, wanting to know why in the world Armie was even _awake_ at this hour.

Armie shrugs sheepishly, "After I was done being scared, I kind of just napped for a while. Those beds were _comfy,_ " he jokes, a giggle coming from Amara, swaying her and Armie's arms from side to side as she does. "I woke up a few minutes ago, and the door opened when I pushed it this time, so I just. . ." he scrunches his nose, searching for the words, and after a moment, gives up with a shrug.

"You just kind of walked around?" I ask, suddenly feeling twice as lucky as I already felt to not have at least one of our faces in the sky( or television, I guess) tonight.

He turns to me and nods in affirmation, and I let out a deep breath as soon as Amara pulls him to facing her again, chatting his head off with a vivid recollection of the previous days events, all the way from her attempted prank on me when I slept past the alarm(I was actually pretty scared by her shouting "boo" in my ear to wake me up- not that I'll ever admit that to her), to the truth or dare match up last night, conveniently leaving out the part where she chickens out.

As the two of them continue to share ideas for truths to ask me later, I just slump back further into the wall, allowing my eyes to drift closed for the first time in the last seventeen hours. Here's to hoping for seventeen more.

 **Fox King, 15, District 5**

 **Day 2, 5:15 AM**

 **Floor 5**

It's been twenty minutes since Armie left, and I'm still not dead yet, so that's a good sign. I thought about chasing after the little idiot at first, but in the end decided to let him go. The ass from Six has no doubt been searching for him ever since midnight, and probably found him and brought him back to his little orphanage of an alliance he has going on.

Whatever, he can do whatever he wants, as long as he doesn't get Armie killed I couldn't care less. As for me, I have a much stronger alliance to go meet up with. The only reason I didn't meet up with Alt five hours ago was because I wanted to make sure Armie didn't get himself killed, but now that's been thrown out the window, so I can stop wasting my time on this stupid floor.

Slinging my rifle over my shoulder(I really wish Caleb would get off his drunk ass and send me some ammo for it- or maybe Audra could do something for once), I double check the locks on the doors and elevator, and once seeing them all completely secured, head out the eastern door(if Armie's avoided getting killed on it, it must be completely empty).

As soon as I step out the door, I let out a groan, instantly bringing up my shirt to my cover my mouth and nose. I poked my head out for a look earlier, but what I didn't notice then was how nasty the air was here. Why the heck was my floor completely cleaned, and now the staircases look like they've been abandoned for years? What, could the Gamemakers not decide on what type of arena they wanted?

Sighing deeply into my shirt, I begin trudging down the steps, my bare feet luckily not making too much noise on the steps- I always was good at moving quietly. Within just a minute of careful stepping, I'm past the fourth floor, my breath taken away from me as soon as I step past it. This is the point of no return now, surrounded on all sides by Careers. I have to get into the third floor and fast.

As I round the corner and down to the mid-platform, I see the third floor entrance ahead of me, and my heart just about stops as I do. My feet lock in fear, unsure whether to run forward or away as my eyes land on the girl from Two, waiting just outside the door. Luckily for me, I don't have to do either, as a loud snore rising from the slumped over girl lets me know that she's asleep.

I let out my breath, readjusting the strap on the rifle to make sure it doesn't bump against my back. My eyes land on her hands, clutched around a knife, and a plan forms in my mind instantly. A chance to take out my main competition on the second day of the games? That's too tempting to pass up.

As softly as I can, I step down steps, making it halfway down before the roaring sound of what must be the elevator(sounding like it hasn't been used in a decade), blasts away any chance of stealth. Yet again I freeze, my mind screaming at me to use the distraction to quickly take out the girl, while my instincts tell me to run away, combining together to make me lock firmly in place. I don't stay that way for much longer, though, as the girl stirs, her gaze quickly finding me, stumbling to her feet and readying her aim at me.

By the time she's up, I'm already bolting, no thoughts of stealth in my mind as I dash up the steps two at a time. Behind me I hear her begin to make chase, stumbling up the steps. Moments later I hear the sound of a knife cutting through the air, ticking against my earlobe, a drop of blood pattering against the metal as I don't look back, any thoughts on fighting leaving my mind, locked in on flight mode.

In just a few moments I'm already back at floor five, but I don't enter back into it, continuing to run up the stairs. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, a throbbing in my head, the world spinning just slightly. But still I don't stop, continuing up. Past floor six, past floor seven, up further and further, ignoring the aching in my legs and burning in my throat.

Any thoughts of disappointment are instantly dispelled from my mind, just glad that I'm still up and moving. I don't care about anything else. That girl thought she had me, but I got away, that's all that matters.

I'm not dying that easily.

* * *

 **A/N: There's part 1 of day 2! Let me know what you think about the events of this chapter. Do you like the longer POV's more, or did you prefer seeing more tributes?**

 **Trivia(1 point): With a few near deaths this chapter, who do you have your money on getting this first kill of the games? Bonus 5 points if you guess correctly, and just for the heck of it, I'll throw in another 5 if you guess who it'll be on. We high stakes boyz**

 **Current Alliances:(Notable possessions of the alliance are listed below their alliance name)**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, Knife, 3 walky-talkies_

 **Concussed Careers:** Marina, Celeana  
 _Knife_

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_

 **Opposites Attract?:** Kieran, Spark

 **Hungover:** Oake, Mabel  
 _Bolt-action hunting rifle, 1 Bullet_

 **Lockdown:** Dakota, Nova  
 _Broad sword_

 **Desperate Times:** Fox  
 _Rifle_

 **Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei  
Knife

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak  
 _Knife_

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana_

 **Imaginary Friends:** Fey, Noa  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_


	30. Day 2: Carry on Pt 2

_~If you're lost and alone_

 _Or you're sinking like a stone_

 _Carry on_

 _May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground_

 _Carry on~_

 **Oake Sinclair, 13, District 10**

 **Day 2, 8:45 PM**

 **Floor 9 Staircase**

These games are really starting to get to me. I remember watching the games from back home, always criticizing the tributes on screen, thinking if I were in their shoes I'd be doing so much better. It's always much easier to make decisions when your life isn't on the line, I suppose. If that's true, then Mabel must not realize the full weight of the situation we're in right now.

"We've already looked for Spark and Kieran, let's just get back to our floor," I urge in a hushed voice, silently creeping up the steps. "It's getting late, and I don't want to get caught out by any Careers hunting."

"Yea, they'll be hunting, and guess where the first place they're gonna check is?" She shoots back venomously.

"Well, those locks on the doors aren't for nothing," I respond dryly, stopping as we reach the entrance for our floor.

"Nobody has died yet," she hisses. "And if we don't do anything interesting, they'll make us do something interesting, one way or another."

I open my mouth to respond, but by the time I do, she's already started up the stairs, head down as she barrels forward. Cursing under my breath, I follow after her, and quickly grab her by the shoulder. She stops in her track, spinning around, face red, looking ready to start screaming at the drop of a hat. Holding up my hands, I bring a finger to my lips, and she just rolls her eyes, continuing on just a bit quieter than before.

We continue upwards, making it the eleventh floor, just about to continue up the next flight of stairs, when a static sound echoes from nearby, stopping both of us in our tracks. The two of us stand completely silent, Mabel going onto her tip-toes, cupping her ear upwards. After another second the static sounds again, followed this time by the sound of a hushed voice of a young girl.

I motion for Mabel to follow me back down the stairs, though it seems unneeded, as she hastily hops downwards. We quickly make our way back to the tenth floor, and I slip into the room, holding it open for Mabel then slipping it closed behind her.

"The stairs are a death trap," she mumbles softly, readjusting the strap on her shoulder. I'm still upset that she's refusing to give me the rifle when I'm the obvious better shot, but that's another problem completely than the one at hand.

"I think that's the point," I joke humorlessly, earning a dull glare. Over the past few days she's slowly morphed from full on aggression to just annoyance at me, which is a slight improvement I suppose.

"Well, there is another way to move around," she mentions offhandedly. I follow her gaze to the elevator, and immediately shake my head.

"No."

"I don't care what you think, I'm not staying here!" She exclaims, a flash of nervousness slipping through her commanding demeanor. She turns to walk away, and I quickly chase after her, grabbing her arm. "Let go of me!" She screams, yanking free, while I back away, hands held in the air. Her eyes are wild, her breath ragged as she stands in place, gulping in deep breaths. "Please," she says a in a softer voice after a moment.

"Alright," I respond in defeat. "Let's go then."

She nods, eyes blank, her mind in another place. "Okay," she responds quietly, slinging the sagging rifle back over her shoulder and slamming the up button on the elevator. A loud creaking sound bellows through the arena, and I cringe, eyes darting over to the doors, expecting the Careers to start filing in any moment now.

They don't though, and as soon as the doors of the elevator open, the two of us both hop in, the interior looking much better than it sounds, having the same carpet and walls as the rooms do, with golden buttons labeled one through twenty on the side.

An awkward silence falls over the two of us, Mabel hesitantly hitting the thirteen button. The doors slide shut, and the elevator begins to smoothly glide upwards, standing in sharp contrast to the loud creaking noise. Right above the doors a number slowly climbs up, taking what feels like a 30 seconds to climb up a single floor.

Not able to bear the awkward silence any longer, I sigh, reaching over to the sling on Mabel's shoulder. She pulls away, put I throw up my hands in defense. "Just fixing the strap," I apologize. "It was sagging."

She nods slowly, avoiding eye contact as I tighten the strap around her shoulder, the rifle now fitting snugly on her back. Finishing the job, I stick my hands back into my pockets, eyes fixated on the slowly climbing number. Out of the corner of my eye I see her open her mouth, though she quickly shuts it, averting her gaze to her feet, kicking the side of her foot absentmindedly.

Finally, the creaking noise stops, the elevator sliding to a stop with a satisfying _ding._ The doors slide open, and ahead of us what seems like a ball room is revealed. There's a huge dance floor with stereos set up, taking up the far half of the room, while the near half is filled with long, cloth-covered tables, just a few knives and bottles scattered messily around.

"Huh," I grunt, stepping out into the room. Just as my foot makes contact with the carpeted floor, the butt of a rifle comes flying around the corner, slamming onto my forehead with a loud crack. My vision temporarily going black, I fall backwards, landing on the floor with a thud, a scream escaping from Mabel as she fumbles with her rifle, shakily aiming it at the door.

A boy, who I quickly place as Fox, the boy from Five, slides from around the corner, a hunting rifle of his own aimed at Mabel. He seems to freeze in place for a moment at the sight of her gun, though Mabel seems just as stunned, and before either of them can react with a shot, Fox dives back out of view.

A tense moment passes, and I slowly stumble to my feet, my vision still blurry and a throbbing feeling in my head, but my senses mostly regained. With a wobbly finger to my lips, I sneak around the corner, this time ready for a sneak attack, Mabel hot on my heels, rifle aimed at chest height.

I roll around the corner, though to my surprise find no sign of the boy. Popping back up to my feet, I turn back to Mabel, though as I do a cracking noise resonates through the room, a few shards of glass scattering on one of the tables ahead.

I point towards the table, Mabel nodding in return, and I motion for her to move to the left, myself headed around the right. The two of us crouch, darting from table to table, using the tables for cover, slowly making our way to the source of the noise. My heart is beating in my ears, adrenaline pumping through my veins like never before. My whole body is shaking, and even through the loud pounding of my own heart, my senses seem double as effective as before, every rub of the carpet and slip of a shadow being noticed.

After a tense minute of dodging around, Mabel and I both make it to just in front of the long table the bottle came from, and after a quick signal to her, the two of us both turn the corner, Mabel with rifle held high, myself rounding the corner quickly, fists held up.

Both of us stop in our tracks, however, when instead of being met with the boy from Five, we are met with nothing but a shattered bottle. Mabel stares at me confusedly, and I stare at the bottle, the thoughts slowly clicking together in my mind. Just as the full realization hits me, I jump up, shouting out a warning to Mabel.

It's too late. The bottle connects squarely with the back of her head, and Mabel stumbles forward. Before she can fall, Fox grabs the rifle, Mabel barely holding on as Fox tugs it harshly. My feet are in action, sprinting across the room towards the two as fast as my legs can carry me.

But I'm too late. Fox gives up on tugging the rifle away, instead tugging on the stock, while simultaneously shoving on the end of the rifle. The rifle is now aimed directly at Mabel's stomach, and she seems to realize this, shoving away the rifle from her, but not before Fox pulls the trigger, a gush of blood eruption from her side as she collapses onto her knees.

The noise seems to daze Fox for a moment, just long enough for me to get into striking distance, putting all my acceleration directly into a uppercut, connecting with his cheek and sending him stumbling backwards, rifle dropping from his grip. Not giving him a moments rest, I charge into him, tackling him onto a table, pinning him down, wrists crossed over his neck, shoving down with all my might.

He seems initially shocked, eyes bulging out as he claws at my hands, though it doesn't take him long to regain his senses. While I'm strong for someone my age, so is he, and he's soon able to wrestle his way on top of me, fingers wrapping around my throat and squeezing, a sharp pain in my throat as I find myself unable to gasp for air. I send a few wild hits at him, though he seems unaffected by it, a feral look in his eyes as he stares down at me, one thought in my mind.

He's going to kill me.

Desperately, I grasp all around me, attempting to feel up for anything that I can use. The search doesn't yield any result, and I'm beginning to get dizzy, my energy draining. Just as I feel like I won't be able to hold on any longer, and am ready to give in, my fingers brush against something hard, and without a second thought, I reach out further. My hands grasp around the handle of something, and without any more hesitation, with my final burst of energy, I wildly swing the object towards the boys' neck.

He never sees the knife enter his throat.

The effect is instant, his grip loosening, hands shooting up to his throat, grasping feebly at his wound. I let in the deepest breath of my life, rolling over to my side, Fox sliding off of me with no resistance, off the table and landing on the floor with a thud.

 _Boom!_

I lay like that for what feels like years, slowly regaining my breath, every inch of my body shaking from a mixture of adrenaline, fear, and something else that I don't know. As I lay, my thoughts slowly start to form more coherently, and after a minute of ragged breathing and choking, my eyes pop open, quickly shooting upwards.

 _Mabel._

Jumping off the table, I quickly run over to Mabel, her un-moving figure curled into the fetal position. My breath catches for a moment, though I quickly let it go as a shudder runs through her body, the first sign of life from her. Dropping to my knees, my senses start to come back to me, now hearing the desperate, choked out sobs coming from Mabel. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, and she's clawing feebly at her wound, in an eerily similar way to Fox. Carefully, I hold onto her hands, murmuring a few reassuring words when she starts sobbing even louder, moving her hands away to get a view of her wound.

My heart drops when I do. Right in her side, just barely missing her gut, is a small hole. More worryingly, though, is the pool of deep red blood gushing from it, soaking through her thin t-shirt. Mabel moans out a few inaudible words, clutching onto the fabric of her shirt.

My blood starts pumping again, and a sinking feeling of helplessness falls over me as I desperately dart my eyes around the room. "I-I g-gotta go get some help, I-" I go to stand up, but a pained, helpless squeal comes from Mabel, her wet eyes looking at me pleadingly, her hands grasping softly at mine.

Gulping deeply, I crouch back down, shakily clasping my hands over hers, offering the most unconvincing smile of my life to her as she murmurs out something I barely manage to catch. "Stay. . . Please. . . Don't go."

"Okay," I shakily get out, that same fake smile still forced onto my lips. I can be strong, this is okay, it's all gonna be okay. Just be strong. Tears are threatening to spill, and I take in a deep breath, desperately blinking away the tears. "It's okay. It's all okay. You're gonna be okay, you hear me?"

She squeaks out something in reply, painfully inching her head forward in what I assume is a nod.

My gaze switches from her, eyes searching the room for something, anything that could possibly help. The search seems futile, just bottles and knives on the tables, but my eye catches onto something else: the gaze of a camera focused directly on Mabel and I.

"Help," I mouth out, just barely whispering the words, hopefully out of Mabel's hearing.

My attention is switched away from the camera and back to Mabel, another painful, muted scream escaping from her, her sobs slowly beginning to quiet. "You're going to be just fine, Mabel, you hear me?"

She either doesn't seem to understand my words, or ignores them, her eyes misty as she stares directly up, her body no longer steadily shaking, instead occasional violent shudders jutting through her body, only her hands still softly shaking. "C'mon now," I mumble to myself, "Don't you die on me."

 **Lei Park, 11, District 3**

 **Day 2, 9:25 PM**

 **Floor 16**

I've always dreamed of being an adventurer. When I would sit in my room at home and just daydream, the main thing I always dreamed of doing was always that same exact thing. When I got a bit older, and stopped dreaming, and started writing instead, it didn't take me even a minute to decide what it would be about. I would sit in my room for hours a day, just bringing my dreams to life, imagining myself in the shoes of my brave hero. Imagine myself exploring far lands, fighting evil dragons, rescuing the beautiful princess. I never thought that my dreams would ever come true.

My breath catches as I turn around the corner, stealthily sneaking my way through the room. In my mind I pretend that I'm hiding from somebody, in a life or death duel with an evil Career. Ace is cheering me on silently, her life in my hands as I sneak up behind the Career, bringing my sword high in the air. . .

"Lei!" Ace's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, my imaginary sword in my arm disappearing, my dreams fading to dust around me. "Lei!" She calls again, this time much more impatiently.

"Ya!" I call back, sighing softly to myself. Oh well, plenty more time to get lost in my imagination tomorrow. Dropping any other thoughts, I run out from behind the bar, the table's just above my head, making me invisible. Ace is waiting in the middle of the room, arms folded over her chest, leaning against one of the round, old wooden tables.

Right at midnight this morning we left our first room, and in just a few minutes we made it here. She apparently decided it was a good place to stay, mentioning something about lots of food and drinks and safety. After that we spent the next half-hour sneaking back to the third floor and bringing the rest of the food and drinks we couldn't carry up to this floor, using the mini-fridges to carry lots at a time. We didn't get _all_ of the food, because we nearly got caught by some of the Careers during the last trip, and Ace decided there wasn't enough there to risk another trip. So once we got up to this floor again, Ace locked both the exits, then used chairs to block them more. After that we both rolled all but one of the tables in front of the elevator, so that you can barely even see the top of the door now.

After that was done, Ace actually talked with me for a bit for the first time in a while. She asked me about Peri, and told me that she was one of the kids she's been tutoring. I told Ace all about her, and even accidentally slipped up and told her about Peri's crush on Firefly, forgetting that cameras were on us. Hopefully Firefly didn't see that.

"Come on, the anthem is in just another minute," Ace says, snapping a finger in front of my face, effectively bringing me back into the present. "We need to keep track of who's dying, do you think you can do that?"

I nod my head excitedly, thrilled at the idea of another responsibility being given to me. In the Capital she would only give me super small stuff, afraid that I would screw it up probably, but lately she's putting me in charge of important stuff. I even was the one that found the key for the case with the knife in it, something Ace seemed proud of me for.

"Okay, then, pay attention," she says sternly, though not rudely, locking her eyes on the television, a large flat screen on the wall over the bar.

After another minute of silent anticipation, the television clicks to life, not doing any of the beeping or static that it was yesterday night. Instead the screen goes straight to the seal of Panem, the anthem blaring proudly. After a moment, the screen switches away from the seal, and shows the first face: Fox.

I look up at Ace expectantly, wondering what she's going to say about losing our ally, but she doesn't respond at all, not showing any signs of. . . anything, really. Sighing, I look back up at the television, the screen staying on Fox for a full minute, before finally clicking off.

"What?" Ace asks, surprised at something.

Slightly taken aback(I've never seen Ace surprised before), I look up at her awkwardly. "Ya, I can't believe Fox died-"

She glances down at me, the surprise from her face gone, replaced by her blank look that says 'I can't believe you're that dumb.' "I don't give a damn about Fox- that kid was never gonna last it past the first few nights."

"But-"

"Tell me, Lei, did you notice anything else special about the faces you saw?" She questions, looking at me expectantly.

"Uh," I open my mouth to offer up a guess, but she cuts me off, seeming to notice that I'm clueless.

"How many faces did you see, Lei."

I scrunch my nose, confused at what she means. "Just one, but. . . oh." The realization hits me, and I facepalm, feeling like an idiot.

Ace looks away from me, and instead switches her gaze to the camera in the corner of the room. She looks around the room, tossing her arms up in the air, flustered. "What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

 **A/N: All will explained in time. Make sure to vote on the poll, and PM me if you want to sponsor a tribute.**

 **24th Place: Fox King: Ah, Fox. You were initially meant to be a character that everyone would hate, and just be a total unlikable prick. But as it so happens, it seems quite a few of you guys liked that aspect of his character. And to be honest, even though this may seem odd considering I just killed him off first, I grew to like him as well. In the end though, while I had these nice plot points and character arcs for all the other tributes, I didn't really have any for him. Overall, Fox may have not been the best guy, but he was a realistic character that was a fun "villain" to write. Quack Master, if you're still lurking around this story, thank you for Fox, and hopefully you can forgive me for killing him off so early on.**

 **PS: CELTIC YOU ARE A FUCKING PROPHET WHAT THE HELL YOU GUESSED THE EXACT COMBO OF WHO WOULD KILL WHO. HOW. THAT IS ACTUALLY A 1/552 CHANCE. JUST WHAT.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Predictions on what's going on with Armie? I would offer bonus points for correct answers but the prophetic duck will over-saturate the market if she gets any more points.**

 **Current Alliances:(Notable possessions of the alliance are listed below their alliance name)**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, Knife, 3 walky-talkies_

 **Concussed Careers:** Marina, Celeana  
 _Knife_

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_

 **Opposites Attract?:** Kieran, Spark  
 _Broad Sword_

 **Hungover:** Oake, Mabel  
 _2 Bolt-action hunting rifles, Knife_

 **Lockdown:** Dakota, Nova  
 _Broad sword_

 **Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei  
Knife

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak  
 _Knife_

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana_

 **Imaginary Friends:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_


	31. Day 3: Closing Time Pt 1

_~Closing time,_ _Open all the doors and let you out into the world_

 _Closing time,_ _Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl_

 _Closing time,_ _One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer_

 _Closing time,_ _You don't have to go home but you can't stay here~_

 **Kyle Braddock, 32, District 10 Mentor**

 **Day 3, 12:00 AM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

It's been three hours now. Just over three hours since my whole world came crumbling down around me. Everything was looking so promising this year. Sure Oake and Mabel bickered, but I could tell that beneath their sibling-like fighting, they really cared about each other. I had a feeling, that this year would finally be the year. I could finally step back into District Ten with my head held high, not have another two families who's gaze to hide from every year.

Instead I'm forced to sit in my chair helplessly, one hand clutching my seventh cup of coffee, my shaky hand sloshing liquid over the edge and onto my desk, while my other hand is rapidly clicking on the mouse, refreshing the sponsor info.

"Please," I mutter to myself under my breath, "somebody, anybody, for whatever reason, send money. If just one person sent just a bit of money, maybe I could afford medicine and they could still survive. . . ."

"How the hell is that girl still alive?" The resounding, unmistakable voice of Livia Prime moans in a pained voice.

I don't look away from the screen ahead of me, my bloodshot eyes still staring un-moving at the picture in front of me. Around me I can sense the remaining mentors all shifting their gazes between Livia and myself, while the other District Two mentor hushes his psychopathic, outspoken, sack of shit of a partner.

Through my earbud I can hear the soft moans of pain barely escaping Mabel's lips, Oake's occasional fatigued reassurance, his eyes the same strained red as my own. He's sitting cross-legged by her waist, head resting on his bare shoulder, with his shirt currently being used to stop the flow of blood from Mabel's wound. The shirt is starting to get soaked, though, and it won't last much longer at this rate. Unless she gets medicine, and fast, then she won't be surviving the night.

I shudder at the thought as soon as it enters my mind.

"What?" The asshole exclaims defensively. "We're all wondering it."

A soft murmur runs through the room, a few mentors tiredly telling Livia to shut her mouth, while a few others quietly agree.

My numb clicking and glazed over look dissipates in an instant, however, any thoughts on the people surrounding me evaporating. On the second screen something appears that makes my breath catch, a message of sponsorship in my inbox. My eyes light up and I instantly click on it, my heart dropping as I read the message.

 _Let her at least be comfortable_

Attached with the message is a small sum of money, just enough to buy a blanket. My head drops and thuds against my desk. Aren't I an idiot, actually believing for a moment that somebody in this shitty world would care enough to save her. That some fat cat Capitolite would give enough of a damn to let an innocent girl live, rather than add another few more shirts to their wardrobe.

I lift my head back up slowly, numbly staring between the two screens, Mabel's murmurs of pain still echoing through the earbuds. All I have to do is click a single button, and the blanket is sent. Just one button and I give up all hope of the two surviving the night, and condemn two innocent children to death.

My finger shakily hovers over the mouse, and after one last glance at Mabel's shivering, pained body, I drop down my finger, and click the button.

As I do, I shove away the mouse, flipping the keyboard for good measure as my body collapses onto the desk, pounding down with my fist. A muffled scream escapes my throat, and on screen I can see Oake rushing towards the sponsor gift, only to collapse to his knees upon seeing the blanket instead of the medicine that would save his and Mabel's lives.

I can see the realization in his eyes, as he fights back tears, shuffling his way back to Mabel, blanket clutched over his chest, a dead look in his eyes. A dead man walking.

Without thinking, the coffee in my hand is being flung at the screen, and my fist is sent swinging, cracking the screen as it falls backwards. The soft whispers of the room turn to dead silence as I slam my fist onto the desk again, making a small crack in the wood.

"FUCK!" I scream, rushing my hands through my hair. I bite my tongue to mute the next words that nearly escape my lips. All the words I so desperately want to say. The people I want to curse out for allowing this to happen. For killing them, just like they do every other year. Just like they will next year again, where no matter how hard I try not to, I'll start to care about the two kids whose lives are in my hand. Where I'll feel responsible for what happens to them, and the full weight will come crashing down on me again, when one year from now, I let down the only two people in the world who need me.

Though my eyes are shut, in my ear I can hear the sounds of Mabel begin to soften, and just before they fade to nothingness, Oake's voice softly comes through. "Don't you worry, in just a second you won't ever hurt again."

I nearly collapse out of my chair when the first canon explodes.

A thick silence fills the air, the only sound a deep gulping from Oake, his rapid breathing steadily panting, until just moments later, it cuts off, the earbuds out of my ear and across the room before the canon ever gets the chance to go off.

 **Tristan Bay, 27, District 12 Mentor**

 **Day 3, 12:05 AM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

Kyle is still motionless, head planted on his desk. Poor guy always takes his tribute's deaths harshly. Not that I exactly take them in stride, but his reactions are always particularly bad.

There's no time to mourn for his losses though, not with the situation my tributes are in. For almost twenty-four hours now my tributes have been locked onto their floor, the District One tributes waiting at either end of the floor, one armed with a katana and the other recently gifted a knife.

The older girl somehow managed to figure out a way to lock the elevator for specific floors, meaning that them two can't use that to escape, leaving Dakota stir-crazy and impatient. Right now she's stalking from side to side, seemingly trying to decide which door to attempt exiting from, her sword clutched tightly in her right hand, cutting the carpet as it drags behind her.

Nova doesn't share her fear and restlessness, currently deeply asleep, curled into the fetal position on the carpet, a suggestion of Dakota, who deemed the bedrooms not safe. She seems comfy enough despite it though, a blanket beneath and above her, and a few pillows to lie down on.

I just can't help but wish there was something more I could do for them. Sending them a note revealing information about other tributes isn't allowed, so I can't direct them to the younger girl with the knife(who she could most likely take on). They have plenty of food and water to last them a while, Dakota has a much better weapon than I could afford to send her, and while some sort of lock or crowbar would be helpful to buy her more time, it still doesn't solve the problem at hand.

How the hell are they gonna get out of this.

I wasn't lying to Dakota on the train when I told her that I haven't given up hope on my tributes ever winning yet. District Twelve has had a history of that sentiment from their mentors, and its a stigma I'm attempting to break. At first I thought that by just believing in my tributes, that we could have victors coming eventually. Maybe not Career level fast, but at least not the thirty year gaps we've gotten used to.

Despite that, a little part of me has been nagging at me, getting larger and larger every year. That maybe District Twelve is just destined to never consistently win the games. That another nine years will pass by with no victor, and another nine after that. I don't know if I can bear the thought of sending another thirty-six children to their deaths by my self, without at least one positive to outweigh the massive loss.

"You know, she reminds me a lot of you."

I don't have to turn around to know the voice belongs to Rose, the tenured escort for District Twelve. As far as escorts go, she's about as good as a backwater district can hope for. She's laid back, doesn't act like a prick to the tributes, is good at filling paperwork, and has a gambling streak that we share.

"Does she now?" I ask, deciding to play along.

I can practically feel her eyes rolling as she sits down next to me, setting a coffee in front of each of us. "Well you're both insomniacs for starters."

"A rare trait in the games," I dully respond, nursing my cup of coffee.

"More rare than you think," she replies, gesturing around the room.

Deciding to bite, I glance around the room, and much to my surprise, find most of the mentors to be asleep. Only Kyle, Audra, and the Career mentors(Apollo included) are still awake.

"Meh," I mutter, turning back to the screen, finding the same scene still playing out, seemingly in loop.

"You're also both stubborn as they come," she teases with a snicker.

"Suppose so," I reply with a smile. "I suppose so."

 **Caleb Ainsley, 39, District 5 Mentor**

 **Day 3, 12:10 AM**

 **Press Room, The Games Center**

"Fox was a good kid, he may not have been perfect, god knows none of us are anywhere close to that, but he deserved better than the hand he got dealt. He was a bright guy, and had a nice sense of humor. He had his flaws, and those may have been what lead him to falling early on in the games, but still to see him go so early is a surprise."

The media assembled all furiously jots down notes onto their pads, and it takes all my willpower to not just walk off and leave right now. Press briefings are always the worst. You have a cookie-cutter script you follow every year because no matter how much of an ass someone is you can't bash them, and no matter how nice of a kid they were you can't bash the games for taking them away.

"Mr. Ainsley," one of the reporters raises his hand, and after I give him an approving nod, he continues with his question. "I'm sure you're aware the question on all of your minds is why Armand didn't die with Fox? Especially since just minutes ago we saw Oake die soon after his partner passed. Do you have any insight on this?"

Letting out a sigh, I try to think of how to word my answer. "Yes, well, one of the Gamemakers informed me recently that apparently Fox asked-in a way I would guess was meant to be rhetorical- if he could just not have a partner in the games. It was an off-hand comment he made in his session because he was frustrated with Armie, but apparently the Gamemakers decided to go through with his request. What that means for Armie, I don't know, but it means that Fox was tethered to nobody."

A murmur runs through the room, and I wait for it to die down before nodding towards a woman in the front row, who wastes no time to dive into her question. "Could you shed some light onto why Fox wasn't partnered up with Armand?"

"It has to do with Armie's choice of allies is all that I'll say, it's not really my secret to reveal. You can ask Atlas or Audra when you interview them and I'm sure they'll be willing to reveal the answer."

An old man raises his hand, "Mr. Ainsley?"

I nod to him. "Yes, last question."

"How does Fox's performance compare to your honest expectations of him going into the games?"

Ouch, dangerous question. "Well," I stall, racking my brain for a way to answer this. "As I said, Fox was a smart kid, resourceful and decently popular, so I certainly expected better than 24th, but he still had the downside of being in the games alone, so while seeing him go so early was unexpected, it wasn't exactly a shocker."

After that the next few minutes pass by in a blur, the reporters all filing out of the room, while two Peacekeepers escort me back to the mentor room, per my request. While I'm tired as all hell and want nothing more than to go hit a bar and get blackout drunk and erase this night from my memory, there's a few things I have to take care of first.

As soon as I open the door to the mentor room, half of the heads snap back to see me. Audra, still sitting with Apollo, flashes a reassuring smile, though it seems to be more for her own sake than mine. She still hasn't gotten used to losing tributes, and I can only imagine what her reaction will be when Armie dies.

Returning the smile, I lug myself over towards Tristan, who looks deep in thought as she stares down the screen in front of her, but decide against it halfway there, and switch direction to Kyle instead. While I'm not as close with him as I am with Tristan or Audra, he's still a good drinking buddy, and he sure as hell looks like he needs one right now, his tributes died five minutes ago and he still has his head planted onto his desk.

"Hey, Kyle," I nod to him, and he slowly lifts his head, feebly returning the nod.

"Hey, how'd the interviews go?"

"Same as always," I reply dully, grabbing the coffee cup from his shaking hand and placing it out of reach. "Let's get some drinks in you, eh?"

"Switch that to a metric shit-ton of drinks in me and I'm game," he jokes, a half smile appearing for a split-second.

"I'm imposing a fifteen beer minimum," I reply in similar fashion.

"Game," he says, struggling out of his seat. "Joe's?" He asks while throwing on his jacket.

"Where else?"

"Fair enough," he replies, taking a step forward before suddenly hesitation, glancing back wearily at his desk. "There's always next year," he sighs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

Holding up an imaginary drink, a somber expression falls over my face. "I'll drink to that."

 **Apollo Thompson, 44,** **Fill-in Mentor for District One**

 **Day 3, 12:17 AM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

"I'll drink to anything right now."

"Heh, I'll take you up on that."

"You damn well better."

Kyle and Caleb's voices die down as the leave the room, the rest of the room entering into a thick silence. My earbud has been off for a while now, over two hours, ever since Coira gave up commentating to the night crew. The mentor room sure is much more quiet than I remember it being. I expected more. . . hustle, I suppose. Instead it's just half people who are only here because they have to, half insomniacs running on ten cups of coffee a day.

"What's on your mind?" I ask Audra, who is still staring quizzically at the doorway Kyle and Caleb just exited.

"It's just weird," she murmurs, still keeping her gaze on the door. "Their tributes killed each other, and neither of them seem to care." She pauses for a moment, then shakes her head. "I said that wrong, I know that they care, it's just. . . ."

"You can't hold grudges over what happens in the games, Audra. There's only so many victors, if you wanna dislike people for being murderers, or cheaters, or backstabbers. . ." I shrug. "You're not gonna find many people here you like. None, actually. Nobody wins the games by accident. It's a scummy group, but it's your group. There's nobody else out there that knows what you've been through. You gotta stick together no matter what."

"I'd rather not stick together with a bunch of psychopaths whose best memories are murdering kids," she grunts under her breath, turning away from the door, but still avoiding looking at me.

"Most of them aren't psychopaths," I sigh. "Some are just better at faking it than others."

"You seem to know a lot about victors for not being one," she yawns, leaning her chair back.

"Well, it is sort of my job," I joke.

"Okay then, so who are the real and fake psychos then?" She asks, her curiosity seemingly perked, eyeing me with anticipation.

"Out of these guys?" I lower my voice. "Nero is a psychopath, and Dalton is a sociopath, all the rest are just faking it."

"Livia?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Barely functioning alcoholic," I answer automatically, a suppressed laughter cracking up from Audra.

"The pair from four?" She asks, the look on her face reminding me of the gossip girls back in high school, a thought that brings a slight smile to my lips.

"Carolina is a sweetheart, just really good at pretending otherwise for a month out of the year. Troy was your typical Career boy, all about glory and all that, but the finale of his games broke him. Another of the barely functioning alcoholics." I pause for a moment, scanning the room, then shrug. "Lot's of those in here," I mutter.

"You're telling me," Audra says, rolling her eyes.

"Not sure if Caleb falls under the criteria of functioning," I joke.

"He did just call for a _fifteen_ beer minimum, didn't he?"

"I blackout at thirteen," I reply exasperatedly, shaking my head. "And I'm no lightweight, either."

"I'm sure your not," she teases.

"Hey, back in my day. . . ." I trail off, lost in memories of my 'childhood' for a moment, before I shake it away. "Hey," I pipe up after a minute of silence. "You probably, well, hopefully, wouldn't be playing, but do the victors still do that daily game of strip poker during training?"

Her eyes immediately widen, and she leans forward, hand on her throat, choking in laughter. "What?" She manages to choke out between breaths.

"Well it's a game where-"

"I- I know what it is," she cuts me off, still choking in laughter, just now starting to die down. "I mean. . . what? When? _Why?"_

"I'll take that as a no," I reply, only slightly disappointed. "The victors used to do that a while back. It was weird, but. . . so were the people that played, so it evened out alright."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, _wait,"_ she exclaims, her eyes like saucers. "How long ago are we talking about. . . Caleb?"

"No, before that, the old guard," I explain quickly.

"Oh. . ." she exclaims, seemingly a bit disappointed she didn't have more material to tease Caleb with. "You're old," she says suddenly.

"Wow," I exclaim, mocking offense.

"What? That was like, a really long time ago, you weren't even the interviewer yet, how-"

I hold up a hand, _really_ not wanting to have this conversation in the mentor room at midnight. "You don't wanna know."

"Yes, I do."

"It's a long story."

"I love long stories."

"It's a _really_ long story."

"Well, then you better get started."

"Not tonight, kiddo," I groan, stretching out. "I need to get some shut eye, and nothing's happening with Glory and Gloria anytime soon."

"You'll tell me some other time though?" She asks, not showing any signs of giving up on this. "You can't just toss something out there like that and not explain it," she complains.

Sighing, I look her in the eyes for a solid minute before finally caving in. "Some other time."

"Good enough for me," she chirps, a massive yawn escaping her afterwards.

I feel a bit bad about lying to her, but it's nothing personal. I just have no intentions to have that story told as long as I live. After all, there's no need to think about my past, not when my future is still in motion.

* * *

 **A/N: So a bit of a filler chapter. I stepped away from this site for a couple weeks to deal with some IRL stuff before it overwhelmed me, and I felt a bit rusty when writing so I decided to not write any super important events, and instead just give some character development on the background characters(who you guys can expect to be seeing much more in the rest of this story, and especially in my sequel). Hopefully you guys enjoyed it though, and I'll see you guys next time, back in the arena!**

 **23th Place: Mabel: Aw, I felt so horrible while writing that POV, you didn't deserve to go out like that. You were a young kid, but you didn't let that stop you from doing anything. You were a strong, hardheaded little kid that really should have made it much further. Like Fox, I disliked this pair at first, but the two(especially Mabel) _really_ grew on me as time went by. I came to love their dynamic, but I came up with this idea for their death and since Fox died early, they had to as well. Nonetheless, I'll never forget the stubborn little kid with a big personality that just got the short of the stick. RIP.**

 **22th Place: Oake: I always struggled to connect with Oake on a personal level. While I had a fun time writing him at the party, in the end I just didn't have an idea of what I wanted to do with him. When I came up with the idea for this death scene, it was way better than any other plot arcs I had for them. Despite all that, though, writing his last POV was one of the most challenging, yet rewarding pieces of writing that I've made, and stands as my favorite POV of the story so far. Oake, rest in piece knowing that you at least saved your brothers from your fate. RIP.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Bit of a silly question, but if all the victors got together and played some sort of game, what do you think it would be(in my headcanon, aside from strip poker, there's the occasional fight club that always ends in disaster, IE: Eneboria getting too into it and biting some dude)**

 **Current Alliances:(Notable possessions of the alliance are listed below their alliance name)**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, Knife, 3 walky-talkies_

 **Concussed Careers:** Marina, Celeana  
 _Knife_

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_

 **Opposites Attract?:** Kieran, Spark  
 _Broad Sword_

 **Lockdown:** Dakota, Nova  
 _Broad sword_

 **Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei  
Knife

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak  
 _Knife_

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana_

 **Imaginary Friends:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow_


	32. Day 3: Closing Time Pt 2

_~So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits_

 _I hope you have found a friend_

 _Closing time_

 _Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end~_

* * *

 **Amandine "Dina" Corral, 6, District 11**

 **Day 3, 6:30 AM**

 **Floor 18 Staircase**

"I'm tired," I moan, my feet dragging as I slowly climb up the stairs.

"Shh," is Shade's only response, not even looking back at me as he continues upwards.

With a quiet huff, I continue on, nearly collapsing as I step up the final step to meet him on one of the platforms. He stops for a moment, hand on his chin in thought as he stares at the letters above the door. Taking this time to nap, I slump against the wall, my eyelids sliding shut, instantly feeling better as I let out a satisfied sigh.

"I guess this'll do," Shade murmurs, slinging his bag off his shoulder and setting it next to me. "Stay here until I say so," he tells me sternly, gripping tightly on the handle of the 'katana,' I think he called it.

Nodding tiredly, I allow my eyes to flutter back shut, resting my head on my shoulder. The door quietly opens, and his footsteps die down into nothing as he steps onto the floor. Sadly, I don't get too much time to nap, and before long he's back, nudging my shoulder with his toe. "Let's go."

Sighing, I crawl back to my feet, following behind Shade, careful not to get too close to the sharp sword in his right hand. Entering into the room, I immediately feel the temperature change, a soft warmth enveloping me, the air no longer tasting stale, and the carpet tickling my bare feet.

There's an open area in the entrance of the room, but past that is a maze of all sorts of tables and sofas spread out along the room. There's pool tables, half a dozen tables with decks of cards on them, a few ping-pong tables, and large TV's in front of the sofas.

"A game room, huh," Shade murmurs, immediately walking over to the pool table and picking up one of the sticks. Instead of playing though, he quickly walks back to the door, lodging it through the door handles. "Won't hold long, but will at least give us a warning," he mutters to himself, quickly doing the same to the other side of the room.

While he does that, I begin to explore the room some more to see if I can find anything cool. If it really is a game room, then there has to be something to do for fun. Just as I'm about to give up my search, I see something interesting in the corner of the room, hidden from sight by one of the sofas.

A large piece of smoothly cut stone lies in the corner, a few flowers lying in front of it. On top of a few of the flowers, weirdly enough, is the toy that the man at the party- I can't remember his name- let me play with when I was bored. Picking up the purple yo-yo, I realize that this isn't just the same type of toy, but the exact same one that the man gave to me. I scrunch my nose, narrowing my eyebrows as I look down on it, trying to figure out why this is sitting her, with a bunch of flowers.

"What are you looking at?" Shade says from just being me, startling me as I jump up and drop the toy on the floor.

"I dunno," I reply, shrugging as I go back to pick up the yo-yo.

"Lest we forget their sacrifices," Shade reads off through squinted eyes. "Dedicated to the seven men and women who gave their lives in service to Panem on the terrorist attack of the thirty-first of May, year 101." He drops down to a squat, lightly moving me away so he can get a better view. "Director Nelson, Carmen Ioya. . . " he trails off, murmuring a few names below his breath. "Agent Johanas, that was our agent, wasn't it?"

I glance down at the toy in my hands, the name suddenly familiar. Shade glances over at me, and down at the yo-yo, suddenly falling silent. After a minute he coughs into his fist, continuing to read the names.

"Lucian Slate, that was the mentor for One, that'll hurt them. . . " he trails off, a smirk appearing on his lips. "But not as much as that," he says amusedly.

"What?" I ask, looking up to him.

"Aurum Lark," he replies giddily.

"Oh," I respond awkwardly, twiddling the yo-yo absentmindedly. After a moment, I finally steel myself up enough to ask the question, staring up at him. "What do those names mean?"

"What?"

"Those names, why are they. . . ." I try to find the words for what I'm trying to say, but Shade seems to understand, his features falling, the smile dropping from his lips.

"Oh," he responds simply, scratching the back of his neck, darting his eyes around the room. I patiently sit, looking up at him expectantly, while he continues to awkwardly avoid my gaze. Finally, after a minute of silence, he looks down at me, a guilty look on his eyes and a half smile on his lips. "No reason," he chokes out, a dead silence falling over the room as I look back down at the toy in my hands.

 **Nova Whipp, 5, District 12**

 **Day 3, 4:25 PM**

 **Floor 12**

Dakota is starting to worry me. All day she's been acting really weird, just pacing back and forth, muttering stuff to herself, clutching the sword in her hands so tightly her knuckles have turned white. Anytime I try to talk to her she just puts on a really forced smile and just nods her head. She hasn't ever acted like this and now I'm scared about why.

The first day was fun, with us two just playing around, it was just like we were back in the training center. The second day was a bit worse, with her acting a bit panicked, telling me that the two of us couldn't open either of the doors no matter what. But she was still at least talking to me yesterday, even if she seemed a bit worried.

I just wish that she would tell me what was wrong. Looking over at her now, I think about asking her, but once I lay eyes on her, immediately decide against it. Her eyes look feral, bloodshot and wide, her breath heavy and ragged, her sword swaying as she paces.

Instead I look back down to my lap, twiddling my thumbs, too anxious to be bored, but still wishing I had something to do. Maybe that's what Dakota needs, just something fun to do to take her mind off of things.

I move to stand up, but Dakota is on me in a second, hand on my shoulder, staring me down worriedly. "Where are you going?" She asks breathlessly.

"I- maybe, something fun?" I jumble out the words, shrinking back under Dakotas gaze.

"Not right now," She replies, shaking her head. "Later, I promise." She flashes an unconvincing smile, and I weakly return it.

She seems happy enough, moving to walk away, but just as she does, a clicking noise echoes from the door directly ahead of us, and Dakota stops dead in her tracks. The sound clicks again, and this time Dakota is moved to action, dashing towards me and picking me up, slinging my body over her shoulder, a shriek escaping from me as she does so.

"We gotta go, now!" She yells in a panicked voice, clutching the sword in her left hand, my ribs bouncing against her shoulder as she hustles over to the other side of the room.

Just as we make it out of sight of the door, a loud pounding sounds out, the door swinging open. Dakota doesn't look back, instead picking up her pace, bolting straight for the other door.

"Hold on!" She yells, her body tightening up as she turns her opposite shoulder to the door, preparing to ram into it. Another scream comes from my lips automatically, and under her breath, I can hear her murmur a few words. "I'm not letting him die," she mutters to herself bitterly, her shoulder smashing into the door a moment later, the door swinging open, a scream rising from Dakota.

 **Glory Fairfax, 9, District 1**

 **Day 3, 4:24 PM**

 **Floor 12 Staircase**

 _A few minutes earlier_

It's been a long couple of days. While there was no way to know what the games were going to be like, days of mind-numbing boredom and inaction was _not_ what I was expecting. With this small of an arena, and being indoors, we all thought the games would be done by tonight, but instead there's been only three(which raises some interesting questions) deaths, and we still haven't run into another tribute.

The main reason for that would be the doors. When us two followed Alerio and Fiona to the third floor, we thought getting in would be easy. The door being locked was expected, and it wasn't a huge surprise none of us could figure out how to pick it, but when Alerio couldn't bust the door open, that made things a bit awkward. Even more so when Gloria's katana didn't so much as scratch the doors.

Gloria then suggested the idea of using the elevators to get into the rooms, only to find out that every single floor aside from us and Two's were locked off. And to make that experience worse, Gloria also found a way to lock the elevator from going to certain floors, starting, as Gloria calls it, "The siege of Floor Twelve."

Rio and Fiona, meanwhile, are outside the third floor, with the rough plan being to trap everybody between the two of us, and wait until they eventually have to exit, hoping that nobody slipped past and up to the upper floors yet.

I suppose that I shouldn't be too upset about the way the games are going, I haven't had to worry about anyone killing me yet at least. But boredom aside, something about our plan rubs me the wrong way. Gloria and I are separated, one of us on each end of the staircase. That means there's a fifty-fifty chance that I have to be the one to. . . take on. . . the tributes that come out.

My mind races back to the roof on the first night at the training center, and I quickly block out the memory, tightening the grip on the knife in my hands, squeezing the handle 'till the thought exits the front of my mind. This is the Hunger Games, you can't be thinking about anybody else but yourself. Nobody else matters.

Still though the image is implanted in my brain, only interrupted by the cackling of static from the walky-talky at my side. Picking it up, I bring it up to my mouth, hitting the speak button. "What is it?" I ask tiredly, slumping against the wall slightly, nicking myself in the cheek as I absentmindedly bring my fist up to my cheek, forgetting the knife clutched in it. "Ow," I murmur softly, dropping the knife on the ground and rubbing my cheek.

"I got a lock pick from sponsors," Gloria's voice giddily comes through the machine. "Looks like we're not the only ones that want to finally see some action in these games! Glory, get ready on your side, there's a good chance they try to run away once I open the door."

My breath catches, my grip slipping on the walky-talky, fumbling with it as I attempt to not let it drop to the ground, a cold shiver shaking down my spine and into my hands. "Glory?" Gloria's voice comes out again. "You there?"

"Y-ya, I'm here," I stutter out.

"Alright then, you ready?"

"Ya," I force out, my hands fumbling across the ground, finding the grip of my dagger, suddenly feeling wholly unprepared, and most definitely not 'ready.'

"Okay then, let's go," she says, her voice cutting off suddenly.

Not wasting any time, I toss the walky-talky onto the ground, cringing to myself as it violently cracks against the floor. Not giving it another thought, I stumble to my feet, clutching the knife with both my hands, taking a hesitant step towards the door.

"Calm down, Glory," I mutter to myself, my feet anxiously tapping, my arms shuttering uncontrollably. "Think back to your training, and you'll be fine," I murmur, forcing myself to get into throwing position, my legs spread parallel towards the door, knife in my right hand, my left arm held out towards the door, half for aim and half for balance.

Through the doors I can hear a crashing sound of the door being broken in, and I realize that I've stopped breathing, gulping in a desperate breath of air as I keep my gaze locked on the entrance, feet shuffling involuntarily. It's right as I start to let myself think that they might not be coming that the door breaks open.

In a moment all of my training is thrown out the window. I go stumbling backwards, desperate to get more distance between myself and the screaming girl crashing through the door.

My foot catches on the edge of the staircase, and I nearly fall backwards down the stairs, managing to instead just fall down onto my rear, my off-hand grabbing the railing for balance.

The girl doesn't waste any time, already striding towards me, her sword held high in one hand, Nova looking scared being belief, thrown over her other shoulder. For a moment I freeze up, the sight of him and the shock of just how fast everything is happening locking down my systems.

Once the girl is standing just one stride away from me, sword rearing back for a swing, I'm shocked back into reality. There isn't a single thought in my mind, raw instincts taking over as I bring my hand up, a simple flick of the wrist sending the knife towards the girl.

She's ready for it, though, and spins out of the way, the knife barely avoiding her. . . and burying itself directly into Nova's forehead.

 _Boom!_

The canon goes off instantly, in sync with the scream I find escaping from my lips, a horrible, mangled sound coming from my throat. Nova's previously terrified eyes go dull, his body limp as he slides out of Dakota's trembling arms. She drops down to her knees, and I stumble further backwards, sliding down a few more steps before managing to regain my balance. At the top of the staircase Dakota stares through me unnervingly, whispering something inaudible before collapsing to the ground.

 _Boom!_

I want to scream, yell, cry, but find nothing coming my throat, just a muted, strangling sound as I slowly inch away from her lifeless body. I look down at my shaky hands, by ragged breath blowing lightly against them. Pounding footsteps come from above me, and I don't have to look up to know it's Gloria.

I hear a snort from her, and can practically feel the smirk on her lips as she glances down at me. "Nice job," she says in a surprised voice. "Didn't think you had it in you," she musters in her most complimentary voice. Just as the words exit her mouth, I hear the sound of knife being pulled out of. . . a shudder runs through my body, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to see even a sliver of that. "Might want to clean this," she says nonchalantly, her feet pounding down the steps, the knife clattering against the metal next to me.

I can't find it in myself to muster up any sort of reaction, instead continuing to fiercely fight to keep my eyes shut, the image of Nova's lifeless eyes burned into my brain, overlapped with his bright, lively puppy eyes staring into mine that first night on the roof.

Gloria doesn't seem to notice, or care, my lack of reaction, continuing to walk down the steps, her footsteps fading off into a complete quiet, the world falling into dead silence, the cool touch of the metal burning my feet and hands. A pit drops in my stomach, and I slowly open my eyes, looking back down to my hands, eyes dry as they stare blankly down.

 **Kieran Colton, 18, District 7**

 **Day 3, 9:00 PM**

 **Floor 7**

The bottle absently turns in my hands, my mind in another place as I gaze ahead into nothing, leaning against the wall peacefully. Spark went to sleep a few minutes ago, finally leaving me with some time to myself to just think and be alone. The past three days have gone by in a blur, with it taking me until today to finally even get out of bed to do more than just eat and drink. Spark doesn't help matters much, with his constant energy draining me to the point of near-collapse.

He's been nagging me non-stop today about moving, talking about how dangerous- and boring- it is to just stay here. While the rational part of my brain knows that he's right(even if his motivations of wanting something fun to do is way off), I still can't bring myself to actually agree with him. After all, we're safe in this room. If the Gamemakers really have been bored by the lack of deaths so far, then they'll do something to get us to move. No need to go by ourselves. Besides, if they wanted action, they shouldn't have put locks on the doors(or at least would have made a bloodbath- not that I'm complaining about either of those things).

The one-sided 'argument' got particularly heated an hour ago, with him yelling at me that he's leaving tomorrow, with or without me, then storming off to his room. Hopefully he'll sleep it off and come to his senses, but if he doesn't. . . well, I'll figure it out tomorrow then.

If there is a tomorrow, that is. The thought enters my mind and I shift uncomfortably, knowing the truth in the thought, yet not knowing what to do with it. Nobody died on the first day, but now five have died in just two days. Not necessarily a lot for the games, but still, with only nineteen tributes left, and with six of those Careers. . . the odds aren't that low for it to happen.

As that thought plays around in my mind, my eyes land on the camera in the corner of the ceiling, focused directly at me, and suddenly I feel awkward in my position. It's so easy to forget that you're being watched by the whole country, and then that easy to suddenly remember it again. It's a weird feeling to have. Mom and dad are watching me right now, and Jon might be too, probably with Romilly if he is.

The thought stings, much more than the idea of dying tomorrow did, the pain much more real. He probably won't ever know how I feel about him, will he? I try to remember my last words when saying goodbyes, but it's all just an emotional blur. The words and feeling all jumble together into one big mess, just a generic feeling of helplessness and fatigued acceptance.

Of course, I could always just tell them right now. Tell Jon that I've loved him for all these years, tell my mom and dad that I don't blame them for anything that happened with me, that they were the best parents I could have asked for. The words are at the tip of my tongue, all I have to do is speak them, and even if they aren't watching now, they'll hear them eventually.

My throat suddenly feels dry, and I take a massive swig of the water bottle, looking dead at the camera with desperate eyes, waging an internal war to force the words up and out.

I open my mouth, and then close it, then open it again, just a few choked sounds making it out before I close it again. Shutting my eyes, I take one deep breath, and with every inch of willpower I own, open them again, staring dead on into the camera lens.

"Mom, dad, in case I don't see you guys again. . . I love you, just. . . know that," the words are forced past my lips, and I take another deep breath, knowing that I haven't even gotten past the hard part yet. "Jon. . ." I struggle to force the three words out, instead just a weak, choked sound escaping from my throat. Sweat beads at my forehead, and I don't bother wiping it away, instead just gulping down the lump in my throat, steeling myself up for the next words. "I l-lu. . . I al-always l've-liked you. . ." I trial off, averting my gaze down to the floor, no longer having the power in me to even look at the camera. I said it, I guess. It was ugly, and disjointed, but. . . I said it.

A weight feels lifted from my shoulder, but at the same time, the beads of sweat don't stop pouring down my forehead, and I'm finding it even harder to breathe than before, my skin clammy and my body feeling weak. I feebly check the bottle to make sure it was water I drank, and my heart drops the moment I read the label.

 _Ingredients: Water, Poison_

"Oh," I murmur to myself, barely above a whisper, barely able to even hold myself up against the wall anymore. There's no pain though, just an overwhelming weakness, and a sort of blissful numbness in my mind. There's no more worry, no more stress, no more sadness, just. . . .

The bottle drops from my hand, and I slump to the ground, my eyelids slowly fluttering shut.

Just. . . nothing.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so there were a lot of deaths this chapter, so just to give you guys a heads up if you're feeling down about losing a tribute, this isn't the last of them! There will be a epilogue chapter where you guys get to check in on their loved ones and how they're coping, and I have another thing in the 'ol think tank that I might do if I finish this story before the end of summer.**

 **21st Place: Nova: This guy was such a little sweetheart. He was a tiny little kid that had absolutely no right being in this situation, and writing his death was so painful for me. Sadly for him, there's a ton of small, adorable kids in these games, and while I had ideas for plot arcs for most of the others, for him I didn't really know what to do with him. So while it killed me to kill him off so early, his death will definitely be having some ramifications in the future. Thank you AztecPrincess for Nova, and sorry for giving him such a terrible death, he deserved better. RIP.**

 **20th Place: Dakota: Dakota, Dakota, you were an interesting one. You may have only been 14, but you were a hell of a fighter, and were willing to do anything to protect Nova. You were a selfless, heroic kid that really was a good person, despite her rough edges. As I said with Nova though, I just didn't know what to do with you, and that left you in this weird state of limbo where I liked you, but couldn't consciously let you get any further without tearing apart other arcs I had planned. Thank you Alexandria for Dakota, and I hope you stick around to see how Celeana does. RIP.**

 **19th Place: Kieran: My big cinnamon roll. You were such a harmless teddy bear of a guy, and were a great tribute to work with. His interactions with Spark were always fun to write, I wanted you to go further so badly, and I was even going to let you live until tomorrow, but in the end, the games weren't moving fast enough, and you're death was the one that I could fit in the easiest here. Celtic, while I'm sorry I couldn't give the big guy some more time, I hope you can at least find some solace with the fact that he died at peace with who he is and who he loves. RIP.**

 **18th Place: Boaz AKA "Spark": While we had quite a few mischievous goofballs, none had quiet the level of energy that you did. You and Kieran were polar opposites, and that was what made the two of you so fun to write together. I felt a bit bad giving him a death where he was totally helpless, but at least he died peacefully in his sleep, unaware that anything had even happened. Despite his prankster attitude, he really was a great kid, and a peaceful death was the least I could do for him. Bjorn, thank you for this affable goofball. RIP.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Bias aside, who's the death that's hit the hardest so far, if any?**

* * *

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, Knife, 3 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles  
_ Location: Floor 3 and 11 Staircases

 **Concussed Careers:** Marina, Celeana  
 _Knife  
_ Location: Floor 15

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow  
_ Location: Floor 17

 **Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei  
 _Knife_  
Location: Floor 16

 **District Loyalty:** Otto, Izaak  
 _Knife  
_ Location: Floor 9

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana  
_ Location: Floor 18

 **Imaginary Friends:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow  
_ Location: Floor 20


	33. Day 4: Trade Mistakes Pt 1

**A/N: So my computer stopped working and I couldn't write for a bit, but in the meantime I've been working on a project! If any of you have read '500 years of penance' by Tracelynn, then my project is similar to that. It's basically going to tell the story of the second generation victors in my canon(76th games and onward) in a summary, textbook format, with one chapter per games. I have some ideas for it that I'm really excited about, and while I'm not sure exactly when I'm going to start actually writing it, it will be coming out sometime in the near future! But for now, enjoy Day 4!**

* * *

 _~I feel marooned in this body_

 _Deserted, my organs can go on without me._

 _You can't fly these wings._

 _You can't sleep in this box with me~_

* * *

 **Alerio Weissman, 18, District 2**

 **Day 4, 6:30 AM**

 **Floor 12**

"Alright, is everybody awake enough to start talking strategy?" Gloria asks lazily, picking her fingernails as she leans against the wall in an all too eerily similar way to Marina-wherever that girl's been for the past few days.

"Ya," Fiona yawns, stretching out her arms. "I'm awake enough. Let's go."

"I've been awake for two hours," I comment lightly. Peacekeeper training has a rigorous schedule that isn't easily broken.

The three of us all look over at Glory, who doesn't respond in any way, continuing to stand cross-armed with blank eyes. While Gloria didn't go into much detail about their run in with Twelve, it seems to have hit Glory hard. The poor girl hasn't said a thing since it happened, or even so much as acknowledged the world around her for that matter.

"Alright then, let's talk about the lock pick then," Gloria announces, breaking the silence. "We only have one pick to use, so we gotta choose wisely."

"Well, first of all, we can start by eliminating the ones that would be useless," I suggest. "Aside from one, two, and twelve, we also know ten and seven are all dead, so their floors are probably empty."

"Five is gonna be empty too," Gloria adds. "Fox is dead, and the little kid is probably with the pair from Six."

"If Marina was in floor four then she'd answer to the knocking," Fiona speaks up. "So she's probably at the upper floors."

"So that leaves three, six, eight, nine, and eleven," I list off.

"The girl from Three is way too smart to stick around, same with the boy from Eleven," Gloria murmurs, eyes to the ceiling as she goes through the possibilities in her head.

"No way the crazy chick from Eight stuck around," Fiona chirps up, looking proud that she's contributing to the strategy.

"So is Six or Nine more likely to stay on their floor?" I ask.

"Definitely Nine," Fiona immediately answers. "No way the kiddy crew has sat in a room for three days."

"I nearly killed Nine two nights ago, caught them trying to sneak up the staircases. No way they haven't left yet," Gloria glumly sighs.

A silence falls over us for a few moments, before Gloria's face lights up, and she pops off of the wall, snapping her fingers as a wide smile forms on her lips. "The elevator only goes up to floor twenty, right?"

"Ya," Fiona replies, eyeing her curiously.

"And we already know that floor thirteen is deserted. That means that there are. . ." she quickly counts off to herself. "seven floors that they could all be in. If we think there's. . . six other alliances left in the games. That means there's only one floor that's going to be empty from fourteen and up."

"So put two of us on each staircase, pick floor fourteen and start making our way up to the top," I finish, finding little flaws with the plan. Even if somebody has stayed on the bottom floors, it's not like they have anywhere in particular to go with all the doors down there being locked.

"Alright then, we're all set, you guys ready to go?" Gloria asks, bouncing on her toes in excitement. I have to say, as guiltily happy I am about Aurum dying, a replacement that isn't Fiona V2 would have been nice. Then again, at least she's happy about being in the games. Better her than someone who actually enjoys living, I guess.

"Before we go head up, I suggest we do one last search of the bottom floors," I pipe up, taking an uneasy glance at Glory, who still has that same spacey look in her eyes. "Glory and I will go check in on the first floor and basement, and you guys can search thirteen, maybe."

"Searching the room for some ammo again couldn't hurt," Gloria admits. "Two hunting rifles doesn't do much without any bullets to use them."

"Maybe grab some more of those knives too," Fiona exclaims with an uneasy enthusiasm.

"Alright," I clap my hands, "it's settled then." I step over to Glory, carefully laying my hand on her shoulder.

She jumps up, backpedaling a few steps and reaching towards the knife in her belt. Her hand wraps around the handle, and just before she pulls it out, she freezes up. Carefully bringing her hand away, her eyes soften. "Sorry," she murmurs in a raspy voice, a shiver running through her body as she crosses her arms.

"Don't worry about it," I shrug off. "Let's go see if we can find anything down there."

Glory stares at me blankly as I go to move, and I take that as her way of telling me she wasn't listening to anything we just said.

"Us two are going to check the first floor for anything useful, then we're going to start moving up the floors."

Glory nods her head, arms still crossed over and hugging her shoulders, walking on egg shells as she silently follows behind me. I hang by her as we go down the stairs, that same dull look in her eyes giving me a bad feeling she's going to fall. Sure enough, she stumbles on the first set of stairs, not even bothering to try to catch herself when she does.

Back in training I had heard about Peacekeepers with PTSD, but I'd never seen it before first-hand. I certainly didn't expect my first experience with it to be a nine-year-old, either. Taking an uneasy look at Glory, I suddenly find myself wishing that I had paid better attention to all those lessons on treatment. While Glory may not be my district partner, seeing her like this is awful, and being completely unable to help only makes the feeling worse.

After more than a couple of near falls, we reach the end of the stairs, and make it down to the first floor. "Maybe we should've taken the elevator," I joke, earning just a soft hum from Glory in reply, her eyes still staring out into nothingness.

"You know," I say as we step into the room, my gaze landing on one room in particular. "I've always wondered about that empty storage room, didn't you two say there was a locked door in your guys'?"

No response from Glory. I turn around to find her still standing just outside the room, slumped against the door, a glossed over look in her eyes.

"Glory?" I call out. Getting no response still, I walk over towards her, raising my voice. "Glory?!"

Her eyes snap over to me, and she slowly pulls away from the wall. "Ya?" She asks in a lilted voice, seeming to snap back into reality.

The words 'are you okay' nearly escape my lips, but I bite my tongue down on that question. "You said there was a locked door in this floors storage room, right?"

"Ya," she says, shaking her head and stepping towards me. "Yeah."

"Let's go check it out then, huh?"

She nods her head, wordlessly walking past me and into the storage room, the door swinging open and shut behind her. Just as my hands are on the handle of the door, I hear the the door inside the room swinging open.

"Oh my god," the muffled voice of Glory mutters out, followed soon after by the pattering of feet against the ground.

"Glory?" I call out slightly worried, pushing open the door into the storage room, quickly running over and swinging open the second door as well. As soon as the door opens I freeze in place, foot still mid-air, slowly dropping down onto the neatly trimmed grass, my toes sinking into the cool dirt.

Just ahead of me, in the center of a square, fenced in yard, Glory is crouched over a panting yellow lab, his tongue hanging out his mouth as he pants in satisfaction, Glory calmly petting his head. A grin is spread over Glory's face for the first time in the arena, and I can't help but let a small smile appear on my lips as well.

"Look!" She exclaims excitedly, apparently noticing me for the first time, her eyes lit up in pure joy. "I've never seen a dog in real life before," she murmurs softly. "So much cooler than I imagined," she adds after a moment, looking over to me and giggling.

I softly chuckle as well, slowly approaching the pair and softly rubbing the dogs back. "Ya," I murmur quietly, "pretty cool."

 **Armand Machina, 5, District 5**

 **Day 4, 6:40 AM**

 **Floor 17**

The last few days have been nowhere near as bad as everyone was saying they were going to be. Fox was acting all nervous and antsy about having to come here, and Audra was sobbing when I last saw her. I didn't really know what was going to happen once I got here, but spending all my time swimming definitely wasn't it. Especially after overhearing Caleb telling Audra that I was 'wasting all of my time in training learning something I would never use in the games.'

I sit at the edge of the pool, fingers tracing the line in the cool blue tiles, toes dipped into the lukewarm water. The entire floor we're on is one massive pool room, with the pool itself taking up the entire center, leaving only a narrow walkway surrounding it that gets a bit wider near the three entrances. I'm near the elevator, where our supplies are all laid out on the tile. According to Zarach we still have four more days worth of food and water before we have to leave this floor and look for more, but he says that we might be able to get more without leaving if Audra or his mentor, Atlas, send us more.

Letting out a loud yawn, I roll my feet out of the water and onto the tile, slowly walking over to the pile of food. "Hey Zarach," I call out, looking over towards him. Once I got tired of swimming with Amara(which didn't take much, I mean, who wakes up at 5:00 in the morning to go _swimming?_ ), he subbed in for me, and right now Amara is teaching him a game we learned in training.

"What is it?" He asks, opening his eyes and looking over towards me.

Before I can respond, Amara is jumping on Zarach's back, arms wrapped around his neck as she shoves him underwater, managing to surprise him enough that he actually goes underwater for a second. "Cheater!" She screams through a fit of giggles.

Zarach surfaces, coughing into his fist for a few seconds, ruffling a hand through his hair with his other. "How 'bout a warning next time?"

"Then it's no fun though!" She responds giddily.

While they argue back and forth about what is and isn't fun, I look through the pile of supplies for something small to eat, deciding I don't need to ask. I'm not super hungry, but I still haven't had breakfast yet, and swimming for an hour and a half tired me out pretty fast. At least yesterday Audra and Atlas sent us all shorts, so I don't get dragged(or shoved-as it happened yesterday morning) into the pool in pajamas anymore.

After searching for a minute, I settle on a granola bar, something I had never eaten until the games started. Audra sent a box of them to us two days ago, and while they don't taste good, they're super filling and make you energetic after you eat them, something that you need a lot of to keep up with Audra. She thinks they're disgusting and refuses to eat them, and Zarach and I didn't really see any reason to argue with her.

I hear pattering feet and water dripping behind me, and turn around to see Amara walking over to me, Zarach climbing out of the pool behind her. With my mouth full, I jokingly offer a granola bar to her, and she makes a face, sticking out her tongue at me as she brushes past and picks up an apple.

"This," she says dramatically, taking a bite into the green apple. "is real food," she muffles out through a full mouth.

"Please," Zarach snorts, grabbing the granola bar from me and holding it in the air. "I've had plenty of these back in Six, but I never once even _saw_ a _green_ apple before."

"You've eaten those things before?" Amara asks in amazement. "How rich is your family?"

Zarach's smile drops, and he shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably, but Amara doesn't seem to notice, continuing to stare at him expectantly. After a minute of silence, Zarach lets out a sigh. "They weren't rich at all, actually. In fact, both my parents were lazy alcoholic deadbeats who never even bothered to try to keep a job, not that they could even if they tried." He pauses for a moment, looking down at the ground. Amara and I exchange glances, the smile wiped from her face and replaced by one of worry.

"Sorry," Amara says in just above a whisper.

"Don't worry about it," He replies, head held high, a half-smile appearing on his lips for a split-second. "And to answer your question, a while back I was, uh, by myself." He cringes at the word, but continues anyways. "And, not that I'm saying you should ever do this, this old witch of a woman had a box of these things, and they may or may not have found their way into my backpack."

I break into laughter, and Amara just stares at him in shock. "No. Way."

Zarach just takes a bite out of the bar, switching his gaze to a corner of the room. "Again," he says, "I do not, uh, _support_ that type of action."

"Tch," Amara buzzes into her hand, mimicking the static sound the TV's always make whenever the capitol makes an announcement as she stares down the camera he was looking at. "This has been a P.S.A. from Zarach," she says in the nasally voice of the commentator.

Amara and I crack up in laughter, while Zarach just has a goofy grin spread across his lips. A silence falls over us, and we all eat in quiet for a few minutes before Zarach suddenly looks up to the ceiling, a half-smile quirked on his lips. "You know," he says softly. "This isn't half-bad."

I can feel Amara's eyes on me, and I turn over to face her. Right as I do she averts her eyes, looking down to the apple she's absently twirling in her hand. She brushes the bangs of her hair out of her bright blue eyes, her cheeks flushing red as she continues to stare downwards.

"Ya," Amara murmurs. "It isn't."

 **Izaak Ackerman, 7, District 9**

 **Day 4, 6:55 AM**

 **Floor 17 Staircases**

These games have been much worse than I ever anticipated. While the safety and inaction was nice at first, being locked in a room with Otto for the past four days has made me a bit stir crazy. It's not as if I was ever much of an outdoor person back in Nine, but at least I always had the option to move around. Otto has been completely paranoid, though, not allowing us to leave our starting room, especially after that scare where we nearly got caught by the Careers.

Thankfully I managed to convince him that we were sitting ducks back in our starting room, and earlier this morning we began trekking up the stairs, quietly checking the locks on each floor above fourteen(where Otto deemed it safe). So far both fifteen and sixteen were locked, and I would be shocked if seventeen wasn't the same case. The deaths so far have probably been all the other tributes dumb enough to stay on their starting floors. Running through the seven tributes to die so far, it doesn't seem like too far fetched a conclusion.

Seven people have died already, that thought hits me like a ton of bricks. I still remember my goodbyes so clearly- because my family is so large, they all came in waves, first up my parents, Jaeger, and the other triplets. After that though came Uncle Alder and his kids, and that's the goodbye that's stuck with me-even though I wish it hadn't. The words "you're not going to make it past the bloodbath" were burned into his mind the second they came from Oskar's mouth, and only cemented when Uncle Alder laughed along with him, Clara obliviously giggling with the two.

I shove the memory from my mind, forcing myself to focus on the one that came after it. Where Annalisa and Elsbeth visited me, and I finally got to meet Elsbeth's fiance. But as much as I try to focus on that final goodbye with the only people that truly cared about me back home-it continues to fade, the insults and put-downs forcing their way in front of the bittersweet goodbyes.

"Alright," Otto murmurs, thankfully breaking me away from my thoughts. "Let's try floor seventeen, then," he says, rubbing his hand along the handle of his knife at his belt. With his other hand, he painstakingly slowly begins to check the lock, careful to not make a noise. The door clicks open a crack, the sound freezing Otto in his tracks, before after a moment he realizes what's happened, and with a sigh of relief, swings the door open.

The instant the door opens any sign of relief washes from both of our faces. Halfway across the massive floor, with a towel wrapped around his shoulders and two kids next to him, stands Zarach, the boy from Six who got an eight in training.

"Shit," Otto mutters, frantically reaching for his knife and quickly walking towards the trio.

This movement seems to send snap Zarach out of his frozen shock, as he slides over a few steps to the side, awkwardly picking up a bow and wobbly notching back an arrow. "Stay behind me!" He shouts at the two kids-Armand and Amara I recall, aiming the arrow at us.

Otto stops dead in his tracks, and I go still as well, hanging by his side. Zarach takes two cautious steps forward, now just ten feet away from us. Otto's fingers twitch nervously around the handle of his knife, and after a tense minute of inaction, with sweat pouring down his forehead, he leaps forward.

The arrow flies from Zarach's bow, Otto just barely dodging out of the way of the shot, grazing past his right ear, sailing just inches from mine. Otto brings up the knife above his head, stabbing downwards in an awkward motion, his lack of knife training(and excess of sword training) showing off as Zarach easily side-steps the slash. With one continued motion Zarach turns the dodge into an offensive, grabbing Otto's elbow with one hand and sending a bone-crunching fist at his face with the other. A snapping sound comes with the hit, and Otto's nose looks dislodged, blood dropping from it steadily. He doesn't give up easily, though, slashing out wildly with the knife, managing to catch Zarach's arm, a shallow slice, but enough to get Zarach to release him.

The two both step backwards, Otto staggering as he clutches his nose with his free hand, while Zarach glances back worriedly at his allies behind him, Armand seemingly frozen in shock while Amara drags him backwards, tears welling up in her eyes and chest rising and falling rapidly.

Otto doesn't waste the distraction, charging at Zarach again. Amara screams out Zarach's name, pointing towards my district partner, and the boy from Six barely has time to avoid the attack. Otto feebly stabs at the man's heart, and Zarach just barely manages to catch it, gripping onto Otto's wrist just as the blade pricks against his bare chest.

With his free hand he sends another punch at Otto, this time connecting hard with his throat. Otto stutters back, both hands going up to his throat, knife clattering against the tile floor. Zarach doesn't even bother going for the blade, charging at Otto and tackling him to the floor, his neck getting whiplash as his head just narrowly misses smacking against the floor, instead falling over the edge and into the water. With his knees pinning Otto down, Zarach's hands wrap around his throat, shoving his head just under the water, Otto desperately struggling to fight his way up.

The full realization of what's happening hits me in an instant, and I'm in action, my feet carrying me over to the knife, lying harmlessly on the floor just a foot from the two. Otto has been underwater for thirty seconds now, and can't be far away from passing out judging by his pale skin. My hands wrap around the knife, and I'm charging towards him, both hands on the handle as I lift it above my head, aimed for the unsuspecting boy's neck. My eyes lock with Otto's for a moment, his eyes wide with fear and surprise, and I hesitate for a moment, just long enough for me to not notice the footsteps coming quickly towards me. The breath is knocked out of me as I'm tackled to the ground, the knife clattering out of reach, Amara on top of me, a primal fear shining in her eyes as she stares down at me.

Zarach notices the commotion, temporarily letting up as he spins around. His eyes quickly land on us, then to the knife now laying in arms reach. Otto manages to fight his way above water, gasping loudly just as the knife enters into his throat.

A choking gasp rises from him as he lifelessly drops back into the water, and my head drops to the tile as his does onto the surface of the pool. Amara is off me in an instant, tears streaming down her cheeks and hyperventilating. Zarach doesn't even pull the knife out Otto's knife, running over to her and picking her up, Amara burying her head into his chest. Zarach spares me only a passing glance as Otto's canon sounds, the two quickly running out of my view as I slowly crawl my way over to where Otto is laying lifeless, a pool of crimson red spilling into the otherwise crystal clear water.

My mind is racing with a million thoughts, ranging from regret to fatigue to an overbearing sense of fear flooding through me. My thoughts go back to the night of the interviews, to my revelation of how I had hidden who I really was, and there's suddenly a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. All those things that I realized I'd never told anyone, nobody will ever know any of them. Not about who I really am, not about how I hate how I've been treated, not who I wish I could be.

Every time a canon has gone off, the second one went off twenty-six seconds later. It's been fifteen seconds since Otto's. Enough time for one final sentence, one last thing to tell the world.

My eyes shoot across the room, taking a moment to set on the camera in the corner of the room. Already I can feel all the energy draining from me, and I have to fight to get the next words out. With my breath shallow, my eyes fluttering closed, I think back to home one more time. To Annalisa carrying me on her shoulders as we run through the fields, to Elsbeth holding me in her arms and telling me that everything is going to be just fine, to ma wrapping me in a hug the last time I saw her, telling me that she loved me for the first time in my life. I don't have to think twice about what my last words will be.

"I. . . love. . . you."

* * *

 **17th Place: Otto: In a games full of wild, crazy characters with deep backstories and outlandish personalities, you were just a normal guy. You were a calm, kind, stable person throughout, and while that was one of the things I really liked about you, it was also the reason why you couldn't go any further. The arena is starting to get crowded, and there needed to be some characters that got cut, and when it came down to it, you were the one I came up with as the most realistic. Thank you Pine, for this down to earth dude. RIP.**

 **16th Place: Izaak: Real talk, before I wrote you for the first time I had you pinned as 24th, I just had no idea what to do with you. Then I wrote you for the first time and fell in love, and for a brief period I had you making it to the final 8. In the end though, this confrontation had to happen, and I just didn't see any way that he could survive it when Otto died. There was so much more I could have done with Izaak, and that's my fault as an author for not writing him to his full potential. Thank you Robbie, for one of the better characters I've ever gotten, and sorry for not doing him justice. RIP.**

 **Trivia(1 point): With 1/3rd of the characters gone, and the alliances and plot-lines all starting to get going, who's your early prediction for victor? Who are you rooting for to win?**

 **Current Alliances:(Location is where they are at the very moment the chapter ends)**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, 7 Knives, 3 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Large supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 1 outside and floor 13

 **Concussed Careers:** Marina, Celeana  
 _Knife, Dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 15

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow  
_ Location: Floor 17 staircase

 **Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei  
 _Knife, Moderate supply of food and water_  
Location: Floor 16

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana, Dwindling supply of food, stable supply of water  
_ Location: Floor 18

 **Imaginary Friends:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow, Dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 20


	34. Day 4: Trade Mistakes Pt 2

_~I may never sleep tonight,_

 _As long as you're still burning bright._

 _If I could trade mistakes for sheep,_

 _Count me away before you sleep~_

* * *

 **Felicity "Fey" Cardin, 6, District 8**

 **Day 4, 7:00 PM**

 **Floor 20**

The canons earlier got me nervous. I still don't full understand what's really going on in the games, but whatever it is, I know that if a canon sounds-it's bad. That's about all I've managed to figure out so far, with Noa always jumping in fear whenever there's a canon and wondering out loud who it is. Then at night we see faces on the screen, and like the canons, while I don't know what it means, I do know that you don't want your face on the screen. Hopefully Amara and Armie aren't there tonight.

While I wonder about that, Noa is using her fingernails to cut numbers into an apple's skin, murmuring to herself. Deciding to see what she's up to her, I get out my chair and wander over to her, plopping down in the seat next to her. This whole room is just a big collection of chairs and tables, with a big oval table surrounded by cushioned chairs in the center, then a bunch of armchairs around the walls, and a television on each end of the room. The floor is tiny, much smaller than the room we stayed on the first day, but Noa says that it's safer here, though I can tell she has another reason for being up here too, even if I don't know what.

"Whatchya doing?" I ask, dropping my elbows on the tables and resting my cheeks on my hands.

"Just trying to figure out who's all left in the games, and what that means for us," she mutters, continuing to cut into the apple.

"And?"

She daintily sets down the apple, turning to face me. "Nothing good."

"Oh," I breath out.

"Ya," she murmurs, picking the apple up and going back to drawing on it.

"You think that Amara and Armie are okay?" I ask hopefully.

"Only two canons went off," she says casually, furrowing her eyebrows at the apple. "There's three people in their alliance. I'd say they're doing just fine."

I don't respond, instead just smiling weakly at her, feeling a bit better. I still want to know what those canons are, but something about the way Noa always dodges around them makes me think it's best not ask.

"Of course, if we're eliminating people based off of two canons, that also takes out any of the Careers, most likely. So that leaves Three, Nine, and Eleven, none of which are exactly super strong competition." She sets down the apple with a loud sigh, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the ceiling. I follow her gaze, looking up at the beige wall up above while she stares at it, deep in thought. "Nobodies knocking on the door right now, right?" She asks tiredly.

Looking over at the door, I shake my head. "No."

"And the TV isn't on."

"It's off."

"Of course it is."

The two of us sit in silence, her still blankly staring upwards, while I try to think of what to say. Ever since we got in the arena, Noa has started asking me questions like that. At first she was actually curious, not knowing whether or not there was a ticking noise coming from the TV, or whether I could hear a scratching from the door. But lately she just seems more tired, like she already knows what my answer is going to be. I'm not sure whether that's good or bad.

"Is it bad today?" I ask cautiously.

"Ya," she sighs.

"I'll tell you if anything happens," I offer gently.

She finally looks down from the ceiling, glancing over at me and giving a wobbly smile. "Thanks," she says softly.

I smile back at her, before the two of us both look away, silence falling over us again.

 **Celaena Reynar, 6, District 4**

 **Day 4, 7:45 PM**

 **Floor 15**

I miss home. Before, the longest I'd ever been away from home was when I slept over one night at Cali's. Now it's been ten days since I've been seen my family, and I'm starting to get homesick. It's not just my family that I'm missing, though. Ever since we met I've never gone this long without seeing Cali or Daniel. I just wish that I could go back home, curl into my bed, and never leave District Four again.

I wonder what everyone is doing right now. Travis is probably doing something goofy, while Jack and Travis just watch and snicker at how silly he's being. Cali is outside doing something crazy, probably dragging Daniel along with her so she doesn't get in trouble by herself.

More than anything in the world, I just want to just have that back.

But for now, I'm stuck here. Lying on the cold floor in the middle of a 'basketball court,' while Marina sits cross-legged on the opposite side of the gym. Shes been like that all day today, only taking breaks to drink water. She hasn't even eaten, much less spoken to me. She's been like this ever since we got in the arena, and she hasn't bothered to tell me why she's acting so strange.

Rolling over to my side, I look to the other side of the floor, completely empty aside from the marks on the floor and large hoop hanging from the ceiling. That's all this entire room is, really. Two giant hoops that I can't reach or do anything with, a bunch of paint that doesn't make any sense, and three doors. On Marina's side of the floor there's more stuff, but all of it still means nothing to me. A bunch of machines that Marina will sometimes use, when she's not busy sitting still with her eyes closed, and a water fountain that Marina is seated right next to. She also has carpeted floor, the one thing that finally tips the scale and sends me to my feet, tip-toeing over towards her side.

Careful to not make any noise, I go as far as possible from Marina as I can while still being on the carpet, and gently rest my head on the floor. Just as my ear squishes into the soft carpet, Marina's voice echoes through the room. "What are you doing?"

I freeze, and for a moment think about pretending to be asleep. I can hear her footsteps, though, and quickly decide against that plan. "Going to sleep," I squeak out, attempting to force my eyelids shut.

"The basketball court not comfy enough for you?" She snorts, her footsteps stopping just a foot behind me.

Flopping over to my other side, I look up to her with squinted eyes, seeing the same familiar sight from training. Standing with her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed, and a glare resting over her features.

"No," I say under my breath, earning another snort from her, her hands going up to massage her temples. She sits there like for a minute, and I don't know why, but for some reason I suddenly want to talk with her. I haven't been able to actually talk with anybody for so long. Marina hasn't said more than a few sentences to me, and while Troy and Carolina were both nice enough, they were still a bit scary and quiet. I just want to talk with someone.

"I miss home," I admit in a whisper, my eyes darting away from Marina and to the ground. "I just wanna go home."

Marina is silent for a minute, and it seems like things are back to normal, with Marina not paying me more than a passing glance. Right as my eyes begin to drift shut, and I give up any hope, she speaks up. "Me too," she whispers back guiltily, sitting down next to me.

She seems to be deep in thought, staring out beyond me, eyes watery and on the verge of spilling over. In another instant the moment is gone, and she blinks away the tears, gaze locking back on me.

"I'm coming back home," she whispers to herself, looking back at me with a steely gaze. "Both of us are. I promise you." Her fists clench, and she stares daggers down at the floor. "I'm not dying in here."

 **Amara Ekall, 7, District 5**

 **Day 4, 8:30 PM**

 **Floor 19**

Zarach double checked the locks this time.

He hasn't said a word since we found our way into this room. We ran all the way to the top, but floor twenty was locked, so we ran down to this floor and chose this one instead. Zarach has spent the whole team sitting down, leaned against the door, staring down at the palms of his hands.

I finally realize what the games really are. I thought it was just a fun vacation, where I got to meet a few new friends, learn how to swim, eat fancy food. . . I had no idea what it really was. A part of me wants to feel mad at someone, Atlas, Zarach, anybody that knew what the games really were, and never told me. But the anger doesn't stay very long before it bubbles away, just replaced by a bottomless pit of emptiness.

Zarach killed him. And that boy. . . he was going to kill Zarach, if I didn't stop him. A shudder runs through my body, and Armie gives me a worried look from the chair next to me, hesitantly placing a hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

I force a small smile onto my lips, and nod my head. He just weakly returns the smile, not looking at all convinced. Armie has been so much braver than I have. I remember teasing him all the time during training for being too scared to do stuff, but I guess I'm the one that's really the coward. When we got onto this floor, and Zarach just slumped to the floor, and I was still choking out tears and shaking in fear, he was there to sit next to me until I felt better. He let me cry on his shoulder-literally.

"How are you being so brave?" I quiver out to him.

"What do you mean?" He asks, seeming actually confused as he tilts his head at me.

"Hmf," I sniffle. "I sat here and cried on your shoulder for two hours, and you still haven't cried once since we got here." I look down at my feet. "How are you not scared?"

There's a long pause, and I can feel Armie looking at me. I finally cave in and look over to him, only to see his cheeks red, looking at me with a mix of wonder and confusion. "How am I brave?" He asks bitterly, shaking his head. "You're the one that saved Zarach by tackling that kid. I was just standing there like a doofus the whole time." He pauses for a moment, and looks to the floor, a shy smile on his lips. "I wish I could be half as brave as you."

"I'd say we all did pretty good. . . I guess," I giggle, chasing down Armie's gaze, him dodging eye-contact, still nervously avoiding it.

"I guess," he weakly smiles, his water blue eyes meeting with mine for just a moment. I smile back at him, and his eyes shoot back down to the floor, the smile disappearing.

"So what happens now?" I ask lightly, absently twirling a strand of hair.

"Well," Armie says, glancing around the room. "No swimming pool here, so I guess you won't be waking me up at five in the morning anymore."

"No promises," I giggle, earning a groan from Armie. "There really isn't much in here though."

"Lots of tables," Armie comments.

"And chairs," I add, a smile forming on Armie's lips.

"A few walls," Armie jokes, causing me to break out in a fit of giggles.

"It's fine. With no pool we'll have plenty of time to find out about _Liane._ " I fawn, giggling madly, while Armie tries to suppress his laughter. "Isn't that right Zarach?" I call out, earning a loud groan from his side of the room.

Armie and I both break out in laughter, and even though I'm not looking at him, I can practically feel Zarach's eyes rolling. "You sure like to leave out the part where you chickened out," Zarach calls back.

"What did you chicken out of?" Armie asks, his eyes wide with curiosity, staring straight into mine.

This time it's my turn to avoid looking Armie in the eye, shyly taking a sudden fascination with my feet. My cheeks are red, and I shrug sheepishly, my voice soft. "Nothing."

 **Connie Thompson, 6, Capitol**

 **Day 4, 8:55 PM**

 **105 Colfax Avenue, The Capitol**

"Five more minutes, Connie," mom calls out as she passes by.

"Okay," I sigh in defeat, not even trying to argue like I have the past few nights. I don't get _why_ I have to go to sleep so early when I don't even have school tomorrow, but whatever. At least I'm not missing much, it seems like everyone else in the games is all going to sleep around now too. Or at least, all the people that aren't completely boring are.

And also, since the camera is just showing Armie and Amara sleeping, whoever else is still awake is apparently doing or saying something not 'kid appropriate,' because mom seems to think I don't notice the big _Kid-friendly Games'_ in bright yellow at the bottom left corner of the screen. Whenever two groups of people bump into each other, they always go away from them, and it almost never shows the Careers. That's not too bad, though, because at least this way it spends most of the time showing Armie and his friends. But on the down side of that, when they ran into the boys from Nine, it flipped away from them, and I just about didn't breath for the whole _thirteen hours_ that they didn't show them.

There's a knocking at the door, and I peek over the edge of the couch, the door just out of sight. "Mom!" I call out, plopping back down on the couch.

"I heard it, just give me a minute," she calls back tiredly.

Shrugging, I turn my attention back to the television. After Armie failed to squeeze out what Amara chickened out of, the two went to sleep just a few minutes ago, and I suddenly find myself getting tired just watching them dozing off. Deciding that maybe it is time to do just that, I crawl off of the sofa, letting out a massive yawn as my feet hit the floor.

Dragging my feet, I walk over to the opposite side of our home, where mom is right now fumbling with a huge stack of papers, attempting to open her office door without dropping them. Wordlessly, I walk over to her, nudging my way under her arms and slipping open the door.

"Thanks sweety," she grunts out, backing into her office.

Just as I turn to head across the hall to my room, both of us are caught off guard by a cracking sound echoing from the other side of the house. The papers all drop from mom's arms, and she curses in a voice quiet enough she _thinks_ that I can't hear. The sound comes again, this time accompanied by a loud thud, and mom's eyes snap open as she hurriedly rushes towards me.

Opening my door and practically shoving me in, she keeps her eyes glued on the hallway. "Stay here until I say it's safe, I need you to be quiet, okay?" Her voice is rapid, and I barely even make out the words she's saying, absently nodding my head.

She slips the door shut behind her quietly, and through the door I can just barely make out the sound of her dialing a number on her phone. Pressing my ear to the wood of the door, I can hear a bit more well now, the clear sound of a ringing phone coming from just past my door.

"Jaycen-" mom's voice comes out in just a whisper.

"I heard something from the halls!" The booming, deep voice of a man comes from the living room, and my heart stops as I jump away from the door. What are people doing in our house? And if mom is calling Jaycen. . .

Before I can connect any more dots, the booming sound of a gunshot comes from the hall, followed after by a ear-piercing rattling of what must be hundreds of bullets coming out in just a few seconds. Cracking sounds are coming from the wall, and one bullet even finds its way through my door, the small object whizzing by a foot in front of me and smacking into the wall. My hands are already over my ears, and I scramble away from the door even further, a ringing coming from my ears after the burst of sound.

Aside from the constant ring, the house seems to go dead silent again. My brain is screaming at me to run as far away from the door as possible, to go hide in my closet or under the bed, but for some reason I find myself slowly crawling towards the door. Careful not to bump my head against it, I lightly lean my ear against the wood, now able to faintly make out the sound of footsteps just a few feet from my door.

Scrambling away from the door, I put my back to the wall right next to it, my heart beating at a mile a minute. In the empty silence of my room, my breath is sounding off like a bomb, and I keep my eyes peeled on the door, expecting someone to come bursting through it any second, obviously hearing my pounding heart and ragged breath.

After a minute of quiet, another single shot echoes off, this time followed by two more in quick succession from further down the hall. The fast-shooting gun only goes off for a second before it goes quiet again, a soft thump the last sound before the house goes silent again.

A moment later, the door opens, and I'm froze in place as mom walks through the door, a worried look on her face as she hurriedly rushes over to me, picking me up and burying my head in her shoulder. "It's alright, sweety, we're okay. We just have to go somewhere else for a bit, okay?"

I pull away and look up at her, nodding my head. "Okay," I say quietly. I go to ask what's going on, but one look at mom's face tells me that's a bad idea. Her breath is even more ragged than mine, her hair a mess, and I can tell that she's terrified. I don't think I've ever seen her so scared in my life.

"I don't know anything else yet honey, but we'll find out soon. Jaycen is going to help us out, he'll be here in just a minute."

"Okay," I murmur, resting my head on her shoulder. "It better have a comfy bed though," I joke, hoping to cheer her up, even if just a bit.

A quick laugh comes from her, and she softly ruffles a hand through my hair. "Sure thing sweety," she coos, planting a kiss in my forehead. "Sure thing."

* * *

 **A/N: So not too much action this chapter, just a short check in on the littles and then a bit more of an update on the side-plot. I do have some news though, in that I'll be opening submissions for the sequel soon! It'll be two chapters from now when I put the form up and start accepting tributes for the 101st, and submissions will probably be open for about a month, maybe a bit longer. That aside though, I hope you enjoyed the short chapter, and I'll see you guys at day 5! We're closing in on the halfway point of the games, so make sure to get in your sponsor gifts! There are definitely a few alliances needing some, and you can't save them for the 101st :P**

 **Current Alliances:(Location is where they are at the very moment the chapter ends)**

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, 7 Knives, 3 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Large supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 14

 **Concussed Careers:** Marina, Celeana  
 _Knife, stable supply of water  
_ Location: Floor 15

 **Desperate Measures:** Alt, Lei  
 _Knife, Moderate supply of food and water_  
Location: Floor 16

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana, Dwindling supply of food, stable supply of water  
_ Location: Floor 18

 **My Keeper:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow, dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 19

 **Imaginary Friends:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow, Dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 20


	35. Day 5: Take A Walk

**A/N: For clarification, the tributes didn't find out about Aurum's and Gloria replacing him. The only ones that know are the Careers and D11(since they found the memorial, and they still don't know about Gloria). Also none of them know the reason that Armie didn't die with Fox.**

* * *

 _~I'm down on both bad knees_

 _I'm just too much a coward_

 _To admit when I'm in need_

 _I took a walk~_

* * *

 **Marina Rivera, 17, District 4**

 **Day 5, 4:00 PM**

 **Floor 15**

We finally ran out of food. I knew that supplies would be a problem when I decided to not join the Careers, but it was a risk I was willing to take. Aurum isn't the type of leader to let a worthless dead-weight hang around. The minute he found out about my concussion I would have found a knife in my back. So the second that the doors clicked open, I ran in the opposite direction of them. When I saw that this floor had a carpet and a water fountain, the decision to stay here was final.

The five days of rest haven't been all a waste, though. Aside from the nine(god, that odd number is bugging her) tributes that have died so far, the concussion has also gotten much more manageable. Whether or not that will remain to be true after I start moving around, well, I won't have to wait to find out much longer.

This morning Celaena and I finished the last of our food, and while I tried to remain optimistic, I wasn't surprised when no sponsors sent anything. I doubt we've been thrilling the Capitol with all of our action. I can't complain too much though, because there was somebody out there sympathetic enough to us to send a small backpack our way.

"Alright," I tell Celaena, tightening the straps of the pack, making sure it's snugly resting on her shoulders. "You remember the plan?"

She nods back, her expression a mixture of determination and confusion. Deciding to not take any risks, I decide to go over the plan again-even if her part in it isn't very large.

"We're going to the next floor, sixteen, to either scavenge for supplies then come back, or if the floor is a better place to stay, just lock ourselves there."

"What if someone's there?" She asks, flinching back as she does, as if expecting me to berate her for the question. That girl really does have some issues.

"I just happen to be an expert lock-pick," I grin, holding up my hair-clip. Technically, you're not supposed to use your token to your advantage, but the unwritten rule is that if the Gamemakers pass it, you can use it. Guess they didn't think that anybody would think of using such a common, useless token in that way. "And if we do run into somebody, you stay behind me and as far away as possible from the other tributes."

She nods, any confusion erased from her face as she locks in determination, hand on the straps and eyebrows furrowed.

Double-checking that my knife is secured at my belt, hair-pin deep in my pocket, the two of us set off. I don't have the energy in me to waste any time being stealthy, and so I shove open the doors, the two of us hustling up the stairs, getting to the next floor in just half a minute.

First I try opening the door, but find it to be unsurprisingly locked, and reach for the hair-pin. It's a good thing that I've had five days of rest, because even then I'm barely able to focus enough on the extremely mentally intensive task that is lock-picking. Just as my head starts to throb in pain from the continued concentration, the lock clicks, and I ram into the doors-only to find them barricaded.

Now I can feel blood pumping through my veins, and I slam into the door again, lodging it open just a few more inches. I am not about to give myself the worst goddamn migraine of my entire life for nothing. I draw on the intense pain in my head as I slam into the door again, a half-scream rising from my throat as I hit the door, lodging it open just enough to slip past.

Wasting no more time, I slide through, tripping as I attempt to quickly hop over the various tipped over chairs and tables in front of the door. Just as I hit the floor with a thud, a knife comes whizzing past just inches above my head. Well, that was a lucky time to trip.

There's not much time to feel thankful, and I lift my head up to take in my surroundings, only to be met with the crunching blow of a foot. I go spinning backwards, the throbbing in my head become a pounding explosion of pain stronger than anything I've ever felt in my life: like all three of my broken bones all at once, concentrated into the condensed size of an grape.

I catch a flash of movement coming towards me, and I slash out towards the figure, smirking when I see it draw back in pain, drops of blood coming from its hand. I'm never one to give up just because some ass took a cheap shot at me. Another second of rapid blinking and my vision is restored enough to see the person in front of me as the girl from Three, Alt. It seems I was lucky enough to slash at her only non-prosthetic limb.

I manage to crawl back to my feet just as she comes to charge at me again. This time I'm prepared, and dodge away from her tackle, taking her by the arm and flinging her towards the wall. She collides shoulder first, crumpling to the ground, shaking her head as she stumbles back to her feet. I'm already there, slashing out at her neck. She just barely gets her arm up to block it, the plastic of the prosthetic harmlessly taking the hit.

The move surprises me, and distracts me for just long enough for Alt to shove me backwards. It's not strong enough to send me off my feet, but I go backwards just enough for her to run past me and over to her knife. I stay in battle formation, slowly inching my way forwards. She's been attacking aggressively the whole time, and will start to wear herself out soon. All I have to do is just play passively, and ignore the gouging pain in my head.

Right as I settle on this strategy, I remember something that throws my whole plan out the trash, and in an instant I'm sprinting towards Alt. It's already too late, though, as the girl picks up the knife, then with the flick of a wrist sends it to towards me. I attempt to dive out of the way, but the knife catches me in the left shoulder, and I'm sent tumbling to the floor. My head clatters against the floor, sending a shot of excruciating pain so bad that I drop the knife from my hand, both arms clutching onto my head.

As soon as I realize what I'm doing I bring down one hand and reach out for the knife, but Alt is there already, stomping down on my outstretched hand with all her force. A strangled scream escapes my throat as a crunch comes from my hand, and before I can react further Alt is sending another kick, this time slamming into my forehead. I'm sent backwards onto the floor, my skull feeling as if it's cracked in half, my brain pumping against it and spilling its way out.

My vision is blurred, only a shadow of a figure in my vision, stalking towards me with a raised arm. I feel a sharp pain in the side of my head, but just a second later it-and all the other pain in my head-slowly dulls, fading away into a sweet nothingness.

 **Alt Lovelace, 14, District 3**

 **Day 5, 4:05 PM**

 **Floor 16**

 _Boom!_

I stagger backwards as Marina's canon goes off, and I finally allow myself to breath, letting in a few ragged breaths. There's no time for me to waste, though, and I quickly bend down to the girl's lifeless corpse, yanking out the two knives suck in her body.

A stumbling comes from the doorway, and I twirl around, a knife raised in my hand and ready to be released. It's just the little girl from Four though, tumbling over as she finally makes her way through the doorway.

"Lei!" I shout out, the boy poking his head over the bar where he's been cowering. "Get as many supplies you can and load them up in the elevator, we're leaving!"

He takes the command seriously, hopping over the bar and running towards our supplies, head down to avoid the grizzly sight over here. My eyes are still locked on Marina's district partner though, who is right now on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks and gasping for air, clearly just moments from death. That isn't what interests me. What does draw my attention is the girl's arm, or more importantly, the place where her tracker is placed, which is currently emitting a blinking red light.

I glance down at my arm to confirm that's the exact spot where the tracker is, and a smirk forms on my lips as I fully realize what this means.

 _Boom!_

I don't pay another glance at the girl, swiftly walking towards the elevator. Lei has loaded the lift with what remains of our water and food supply. Enough to last both of us only one day, but just myself-rationing them carefully-and I could make it last two days easily. Lei seems to be in the middle of a panic attack, cowering in the back corner of the elevator, muttering to himself. Most likely terrified that the rest of the Careers are going to storm in any moment and kill us. A valid concern, but not one to worry about. The girl always was distant from the Careers, and from what I could tell, seemed to be experiencing some sort of migraines(a concussion from the explosion isn't implausible). Odds are she left the Careers to go solo, ran out of supplies, then raided this floor with the idea that she could easily kill whoever was inside it. A decent plan, she just picked the wrong floor.

Deciding to not terrorize Lei anymore-he'll have plenty of fear to go around in the coming days-I close the doors, then after a moment of thought, hit the button for floor One.

"I-Isn't th-that where th-the Ca-Careers are?" Lei stammers out. The kid looks so pathetically terrified that I'm surprised he managed to not soil himself. Count your blessings, I suppose.

"Where they _were_. I doubt that they've stayed stationary the entire games. Odds are all the rest of the tributes are hiding out on the top floors, and the Careers are chasing them down right now. That's why we couldn't stay at floor sixteen. With how few groups are left, we were definitely going to be the next floor they raid. I'd rather not wait around for it."

"H-how many pe-people are l-left?" He asks, seemingly trying to conversate with me.

"Thirteen, four of those being Careers. Including us, that means there's four non-Career groups left. Odds are the other three are staked out on floors 18 through twenty. So we just hop down away from the action, let those suckers kill each other, then finish off whatever's left."

He nods his head, though the look on his face tells me he didn't catch half of what I said. Annoying, but at least he's learned to not ask me to repeat it when he doesn't understand it the first time. I'll explain what's going on because the Capitol will want to know, but I'm not going to repeat it for the kid that I'll hopefully never have to see again in just a few minutes.

As the floor trudges downwards, I fully form the rest of the plan, and look up to the corner of the elevator, where I can easily make out a camera. "Dalton, send me tweezers and alcohol." I don't say anything else, to Lei or otherwise. Dalton surely has figured out what I plan on doing, and explaining it explicitly would most likely anger the Gamemakers.

The elevator halts to a stop, the doors opening to reveal the first floor, looking identical to the one that I started on. Just as I step out onto the carpet, the window to my right opens up, a small box sliding into the room and onto the floor.

After quickly tearing it open to ensure that I got what I requested(I did), I take another look down at my wrist. Marina's knife caught me in the spot just above the tracker, only narrowly missing a vein. The cut isn't extremely deep, but deep enough that with just a little bit more cutting. . . the tracker could easily be exposed enough for something to pull it out with the proper equipment, perhaps even a tweezer.

"Lei, I'm going to need some concentration for a while," I tell him casually, not even looking up from my wrist. "Go and explore the floor and no matter what you do, be quiet, and don't you dare bother me. I don't care what happens, I don't want a peep out of you, got it?"

He takes the threat seriously, shakily backing away and quickly walking down the hall without a word. God, such a coward. At least I won't have to deal with the dead-weight for much longer.

I pull out one of the few rags I've managed to keep clean from my pocket, and my eyes fall between it, the alcohol, the bloodied knife at my belt, the pair of tweezers in the box, and back down to my wrist. "Alright," I mutter to myself, mentally psyching myself up for what I'm about to do. "Let's do this."

 **Alerio "Rio" Weissman, 18, District 2**

 **Day 5, 9:28 PM**

 **Floor 17**

Fiona just might manage to drive me insane in here. Spending some time away from her and with Glory yesterday was a nice break, but all good things must come to an end. After finding the dog, we met back up with the other half of the Careers and went to pick the lock on floor fourteen, only to find it unlocked and empty, filled to the brim with arcade games. After that we regrouped and called it a night, and Glory seemed to cheer up a bit more after us two played a few games(though I think most of the amusement came from how terrible I managed to be at every single game).

The next day we picked the lock on the fifteenth floor, only to find it again empty, not even a trace of anybody living there outside of the locked door. We came to the conclusion that whoever's canon sounded off earlier in the day must have been living there, and got killed when they tried to leave. While Glory and I were perfectly content letting all the others kill themselves, Fiona and Gloria are a bit more bloodthirsty, and so right afterwards we trekked up to Floor sixteen, and found the door lodged open, and yet again(aside from the bloodied carpet) empty. We tried out the seventeenth floor too, and it was _again_ unlocked, but empty. It wasn't all a loss though, there was a bunch of food and water that, judging by the slightly bloodied pool water, was abandoned by whoever lived on the floor before.

We finally ran into a locked door at floor eighteen, and with no lock-picks left, have since decided to call it a night, with Fiona and I bunking on this floor, while Glory and Gloria crash on the floor beneath us. It's only been thirty minutes alone with this girl, and already it's taking every bit of willpower to not just walk out and ride the rest of the games solo.

"I. Am. Bo-ored," Fiona pouts for the millionth in the last minute. "Why can't you use those big dumb shoulders and break down that door. Didn't you learn how to do that in training?"

"We've already tried bashing past the doors," I explain calmly. "Remember? We couldn't even scratch them. They're clearly not meant to be broken down."

"Most doors aren't," Fiona mutters. "But you guys are supposed to be able to break past them anyways."

I don't offer a response, instead opting to stare at the wall, hoping that they'll show the dead faces already, so the two of us can just doze off in peace. My wish is granted almost as soon as it crosses my mind, the seal of Panem being projected onto the wall in grainy detail. The anthem begins going, and I snap to my feet, straighten my back, and snap my hand up in a salute.

"You don't have to salute, you know," Fiona grumbles from the floor.

"I know I don't, it's just out of respect," I respond firmly, raising my chin slightly.

"Suck-up," she mutters under her breath.

I ignore her, continuing to watch the wall with curiosity. Finally, the image switches from the seal and to the first face: Celaena.

"So they finally kicked the bucket," Fiona says nonchalantly, showing no signs of remorse for her fallen allies. "About time."

"I guess we'll never find out what happened to them," I say quietly.

"You might not," Fiona grunts, rolling over onto her side and sliding her eyes shut. "But I'll be seeing all those highlights in just a couple of days."

My mouth is opening to remind her of the twist for the tenth time today, but just as I do, a loud slamming comes from both sides of the floor. Both of our heads snap in the direction of the nearby door, just in time to see a metal barrier slide over it, the thick metal blocking off the door completely. A moment later another barrier goes over the elevator, and Fiona and I share a quick glance before running over to the door.

Fiona begins pounding at it, then after that fails, slashes at it with her knife. I give it one hard shove, and find it not budging whatsoever. "It seems the Gamemakers want us staying in this room for now," I tell Fiona, grabbing her wrist and gently taking the knife from her hand. "So let's not try to disobey them," I warn her.

"Fine," she grunts, snatching the knife back and sticking it onto her belt. "So what now?'

Leaning my back against the door, I slide down to the ground, letting my eyes slide just barely shut. "We wait."

 **Jaycen Choice, 29, Standing CDA Director**

 **Day 5, 10:00 PM**

 **100 Colfax Avenue, The Presidential Palace**

It's been a long day today. One long day in the most stressful week of me life. The normal duties that fall onto a CDA director are already a lot to deal with, but combined with trying to track down who's been responsible for the string of recent terrorist attacks has just amplified that feeling. And then there's the whole mess with Coira, someone breaking into her home and trying to kill her is already a cause for concern, but mixed with that whole mess with Audra. . . there's something big going on, and I'm not even sure if I want to figure out where this all really leads.

Now I've been called in to come meet with the Vice President(who just so happens to be my sister) on the progress of the investigation. So here I am in the most lavish building in Panem, standing awkwardly in the middle of one of its many rooms. This one is more of just a massive open area, with luxurious chandeliers hanging from the towering ceiling and velvet red carpeting and walls, hallways leading out from the center of each wall.

My sister enters into the room, and I quirk a half smile and wave. "Nice seeing you Delilah, it's been a while since I've been to the palace."

She nods at me, quick shaking my hand. "The last time was when at my coronation, wasn't it?"

"Ya, it was. If only this meeting was under similar circumstances," I add grimly.

"Yes, well, on that note, how is the investigation going? Any new leads on who may be the ones behind these attacks?"

"We have a few ideas, though nothing concrete has come up yet. Right now we're investigating possible connections to District Thirteen, it would certainly explain why we can't identify any of the men, District Thirteen citizens aren't required to enter into our database."

"They have the motivation, too," Delilah murmurs thoughtfully. "There's been a lot of talk from them requesting full autonomy, but they've been denied. The timeline even matches up fairly well."

"That doesn't explain why they would be targeting an announcer though," I muse. "The men that broke into Coira's home were not simple home-invaders, they were armed with fully automatic sub-machine guns and knew how to use them."

"Well, they could-" Her sentence is cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps rushing into the room, and I turn around to find a bulky Peacekeeper rushing towards the two of us.

"Madame Vice President, Director Choice-" he breathes out, panting through his helmet.

"Choke it out, solider," Delilah snaps impatiently.

"Sorry m'am," he apologizes profusely. "There's been an attack on the D'Amboise Plaza-"

"Isn't President Young delivering a speech there?" Delilah asks.

"Yes m'am, she was. A sniper stationed on a nearby rooftop opened fire. President Young is dead."

The two of us fall silent, a sinking feeling falling over the room. Delilah appears to be in shock, the cogs in her brain turning at what this means, but mine are already headed in another direction. "The sniper?"

"Took a night-lock pill, the two of them are the only casualties," he explains, bowing his head slightly.

"Thank you, soldier," Delilah says breathlessly, the Peacekeeper quickly saluting and heading out of the room.

I look at my sister wearily, not sure what to possibly say. "So. . . Madame President," I say awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck.

Delilah just slowly nods her head, her expression as unreadable as always, her eyes steely and hard-set. "It would appear so."

"I suppose you should go deal with. . . whatever it is you have to do now."

"Yes," she states simply, pushing down her light brown hair, nervously running a hand through it.

"Well, I'm sure I'm needed elsewhere. . . Good luck," I offer, nodding my head.

"Thank you," she replies quietly, letting out a deep breath, her eyes shutting in concentration. "I'll need it."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope y'all liked this chapter! We're almost to the halfway point of the games and I honestly can't believe it. Thank you all for your continued support, it means the world to me. Also, as a note, if your sponsor gift didn't get in this chapter, it will be in the next. I didn't want to add in any more POV's, because this chapter was already a decent length, so I'm just saving it 'till tomorrow. Which, speaking of sponsor gifts, 3 of the 5 alliances are completely out of food, and 2 are out of water-so if there ever was a time to send something in, now is the time!**

 **15th: Marina: Another tribute that grew on me really fast, but sadly just didn't fit into the story that I have planned. Killing her this early really hurt me, because she definitely doesn't deserve 15th. She was a really fun character to write, and one that I really wanted to make it further, but as much as I tried to plan it out, I just never found a way to make it work. Jul, thank you for this fiery, determined, and just a bit regretful Career. RIP.**

 **14th: Celaena: Celaena was a total sweetheart. But as I said in an earlier Eulogy, there are tons of those in this cast, and Celaena was a character that I never found myself able to connect with. I had some basic ideas, and some places that I could develop her character, but when I actually got to writing her, that spark just wasn't there. Regardless, Celaena was a really awesome character that had some really amazing interactions with Marina, and was fun to write while she was here. Alexandria, thank you for this innocent little sweetheart. RIP.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Now that the side-plot is starting to get going, any guesses about who's been behind the attacks?**

 **Current Alliances:(At time of lockdown)**

 **Desperate:** Lei  
Location: Basement

 **Measures:** Alt  
 _2 Knives, Moderate supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 1

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, 7 Knives, 3 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Abundant supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floors 16 and 17

 **Since We Have To:** Shadow, Amandine  
 _Katana, stable supply of water  
_ Location: Floor 18

 **My Keepers:** Armand, Zarach, Amara  
 _Bow  
_ Location: Floor 19

 **Real or Not Real?:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow  
_ Location: Floor 20


	36. Day 6: You Are My Sunshine Pt 1

**A/N: Warning: I went a bit overboard this chapter, and it got to be pretty long.**

* * *

 _~The other night dear, as I lay sleeping_

 _I dreamed I held you in my arms_

 _But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken_

 _So I hung my head and I cried~_

* * *

 **Gloria Martez, 12, District 1**

 **Day 6, 8:00 PM**

 **Floor 16**

"So there I was, stuck at the top of a tree and scared out of my mind. I was just clinging onto the branch and refusing to budge an inch. I was totally convinced that if I let go I was going to die."

"I thought you said you were only six feet up?" I laugh.

Glory returns the laugh, cheeks blushing just a bit red as she shrugs. "Yeah, I _was_ only seven, but. . ."

"You remind me of Wonder," I joke, earning a puzzled reaction from Glory. "He's my little brother," I explain, then after a moment add on, "It was a compliment."

"Thanks," she laughs.

"So what happened then?" I ask, scooting forward and resting my cheeks on my fists like a little kid entranced in a fairy tale. She seems to see the resemblance too, suppressing a giggle.

"Well, I got 'stuck' up there at three o'clock, and Concord sat there at the bottom of the tree for four hours until I finally mustered up the courage to jump," she giggles lightly, shaking her head.

"That's cute," I say lightly.

"It would've been, if he didn't drop me when I finally did fall," she laughs.

This has me bursting out in laughter too, and it takes us a minute to finally collect ourselves. "Your brother sounds like he was really cool. . . even if he was a bit of a dork."

"Ya, he was," she says with a dreamy smile. "So what about Mercy? Any funny stories about her?"

"She didn't drop me when I was a kid, if that was the question," I tease. The two of us giggle at that, and I shrug. "I don't know, I can't really remember that much about her I guess," I admit shakily. "It's weird, I remember this feeling of loving her, and having all these happy memories with her. . . but I can't remember what any of them were."

Glory just nods her head, and the two of us fall silent for a minute before I pop the question I've been dying to ask ever since we started talking about our late older siblings hours ago. "Have you watched the games?"

She doesn't have to ask what games I mean, instead just staring down blankly at her hands, seemingly anticipating the question. After a full minute of thinking, she shrugs her shoulders and sighs. "My parents didn't want me watching them when they first aired, and. . . I guess I've been too much of a wimp to actually watch it."

She avoids eye contact after the answer, seemingly embarrassed by her answer. "Doesn't make you a wimp," I murmur. "If I could un-watch those games I definitely would." A bitter thought pops its way into my head, and my shoulders sag as I take my turn to stare wistfully at my palms. "At least your parents cared enough about you to shelter it from you."

"Your parents-"

"My parents," I start, cutting her off before she can say anything more, "sent my sister into the games even though they knew that the only reason the academy was letting her go in was because they didn't want to waste a tribute that never stood a chance of winning that year. The male tribute," I shoot a knowing glance at Glory, "was apparently a superstar, and they decided to just send in fodder with him, since they already knew he was winning."

Glory surprisingly enough remains quiet at this remark, and I just let out a sigh, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "How did he die?" Glory asks suddenly, looking up at me with her emerald green eyes wide.

"In the final three," I dive right in, feeling no pain from that particular part of the games. "the little girl from Five was hiding in a ditch, and the boy from Two blind-sided your brother, got a hell of a jump on him, but Concord didn't give up. Managed to fight back and kill the guy, but. . ."

"I think I know the rest," Glory cuts me off, pain in her voice.

I just nod in understanding, and the two of us fall back into silence. I pull out the knives from my belt, wiping them with my shirt for the millionth time since we got locked onto this boring as heck floor, the impossible task of getting the blade perfectly clean keeping me at least somewhat busy. Glory meanwhile just twirls her hair absently, mind still clearly on Concord.

I have to say, as angry I was at first about being stuck on this floor, it's been. . . nice. . . talking to Glory. While she's a bit of a softy for my taste, it's kind of refreshing talking to someone who's genuinely nice. It's like talking with Creddi, but. . . not a three-year-old. Makes me almost a bit glad that I've been trapped in here with her.

"You know," Glory says suddenly. " I can't help but think. . . " she swallows a lump in her throat and sighs. "If Concord were here. . . I wonder if he-he'd be proud of me," she chokes out, her head bowed in that same guilty shame.

The question hits me hard, because it's the same one that I'm always asking myself. Everything I've done for the past two years, the person I've become. . . it's all been because of her. If she isn't proud of me. . . then what's the point? "I dunno," I reply truthfully. "But I sure like to hope so," I add on softly.

"I'd like to too," she says quietly. She pauses for a moment, then shakes her head lightly. "But why can't I stop feeling like I'd be disappointing him. . . that I'm nothing like he was. I'm not as brave, I'm not as strong. . . ."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," I tell her sincerely. The girl really does seem to struggle with that, and I can't help but be reminded of feeling the same way, back in those months after Mercy died. It's a hard thing to get over. "From what you've told me about Concord, I don't think he cared about whether or not you were brave, or a killer, he liked you because you were. . . you."

Glory quirks a grateful smile at me, but my thoughts are in another place, the words bouncing around inside my thoughts. He liked you because you were you. . . the words seem eerily familiar to me, but I can't think of where I heard them before. As I'm attempting to connect the dots in my head, the unmistakable sound that signifies a sponsor gift echoes throughout our floor, both of our heads snapping over to see a rectangular box dropping lightly onto the floor.

The two of us are onto our feet and collecting the box in just a few seconds. I get there first, and tear it open, eyes narrowing as I begin to make out what it is.

"Is that a tape?" Glory asks, tilting her head in confusion.

"Yeah," I confirm, flipping it over. "No label, either."

"Well," she shrugs, nodding her head towards one of the many televisions in the room. "Only one way to find out what it is, then."

I nod back at her, and the two of us quickly make our way to the nearest television. I casually pop the tape into the television, and my stomach drops as I see the familiar bold white lettering over the black background. Glory and I exchange nervous glances, the words _98th Hunger Games Interviews_ fading away, replaced by an even more nerve-wracking image.

My breath catches, and I feel as if my heart stopped beating, glassy eyed as I stare at the image in front of me. This can't be real. Of all things. . . why would Apollo send me this?

The video doesn't start at the beginning of the interview, but instead begins towards the end, with Apollo asking Mercy a question about her family. My legs are wobbling, and I can't help but think back to the train ride, back to the final 8 interview video. . .

 _"Who I'm going to miss most?" Mercy's_ _voice comes out for the first time, in that sweet and innocent lilt. She brushes back a strand of her bright blonde hair from her eyes, flashing a warm smile._ _"Well, I hate to play favorites. . ." she giggles and shrugs, brushing the hair out of her eyes as it falls back again. "But my little sister Gloria means the world to me."_

 _"And what is it about her that you connect to?" Apollo asks. "Is she funny, sweet. . ."_

 _"Ya, she is, but. . . but I don't care about that. I don't care about any of that. I love her because. . . because so many people try to be somebody that they're not, and Gloria-" she smiles warmly, and shrugs sheepishly. "I love her so much because she's not afraid to be. . . her." She turns away from Apollo and looks the camera dead-on, a glint in her eyes and the hint of a tear in her eye. "Gloria. . . I love you because you're you, and. . . try not to ever forget that."_

The video cuts to black after that, and I'm left frozen in place, tears threatening to spill over in my eyes. "Those were the last words she ever said to me." The words slip out of my mouth, the full weight of those words hitting me, and I'm barely able to fight back the tears that nearly come out with them, blinking my eyes shut.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn around to see Glory offering up a sympathetic smile. "She would be proud of you," she offers warmly.

I brush the hand off, shaking my head. "No," I spit out bitterly. "She wouldn't."

Glory seems to think better of saying anything else, patting my back lightly and walking away, giving me space. My hands fumble to the remote, and I hit the replay button, cranking up the volume even louder this time. The tears are beginning to spill over, and I bring my sleeve up to wipe them away, put stop midway, Mercy's face shining brightly on the screen yet again, those words echoing through my mind. _I love you because you're you. . ._

A tear drips down to my outstretched hand, more threatening to fall, and for the first time since that fateful day at the victory tour. . . I don't try to stop them.

 **Lei Park, 11, District 3**

 **Day 6, 8:58 PM**

 **Basement**

I'm not scared. Not of the dark. Not of the creepy noises coming from all around me. Not of being alone. Alt. . . she may not be coming back for me, but that's okay. I'm an adventurer, like the one's that I write about. A brave, fearless hero that fights monsters. My vision is completely blacked out in the dark, so I don't even have to close my eyes to send myself to a different place.

Suddenly I'm not an eleven-year-old boy that's alone in the dark and scared, only a thin twig clutched in my arms. I'm a heroic knight in shining armor. Monsters are all surrounding me, and I'm the only survivor, but it doesn't matter. A nasty beast snarls at me to my left, and I spin out of the way, pulling out my sword and slashing at it. With one clean _swoosh_ the beast is decapitated, and I pull my sword back, holding it directly in front me, both hands gripping the handle, a look of brevity plastered on my face.

I'm a hero.

A pack of goblins are trying to sneak up behind me, but they're no match for me. With lightning fast speed I'm spinning around, and with one clean streak three of them drop to the floor. Another tries to shoot an arrow at me, but I jump up, slashing out in mid-air. Another goblin fires an arrow, and with lightning fast reactions and the precision of a marksman, the arrow is split clean in half, both sides sailing harmlessly to either side of me.

I flash a confident grin, stabbing my sword into the ground with both hands, a dashing smile on my face that would make any princess swoon. There's no time for celebration though, not when danger is still afoot. A roar comes from beneath my feet, and any ordinary man would be paralyzed in fear, unsure of what he could possibly do. But I'm no ordinary man.

I'm a hero.

With one swift move, I roll out of the way just as a terrifying beast tunnels out of the ground. The monster has four eyes, two sets of razor sharp teeth, and claws gleaming sharply as a blacksmith's greatest creation. It's skin is covered in slimy green scales, and drool oozes out of its mouth in waves. The beast is enormous, easily the size of two towering men, and as bulky as a paladin in ten sets of his thickest armor. Any normal person would cower in fear at the horrific sight. But I'm no normal person.

I'm a hero.

I take a cautious jab at the eight-legged beast, and it roars in anger, slashing out at the sword. I'm quick with my reactions, however, and pull my sword back and send it slashing at his still moving limb at a speed that would make Hermes blush in jealousy. The limb is protected with a near-indestructible armor, and the sword is just barely able to cut through it, my muscles groaning at a physical exertion that would awe even the strongest of men.

The monster roars yet again as it's arm falls to the ground, never before having met such a formidable match. It charges out, teeth barred as it attempts to chomp down at my seemingly unprepared self. But heroes are always prepared. Rolling forward, the beast finds itself chomping at empty air, and I casually stab my sword upwards, the beast roaring in pain as I pierce through it's armor, gurgling out yellow liquid from it's neck.

Wasting no time, I pull my sword out, rolling out from under the beast, not even bothering to watch as the un-killable beast is slain, tumbling to the ground. Perhaps most people would revel in such an extraordinary feat, but not me. Even the most hardened of knights would feel a burst of pride at their accomplishment, but not me. Because I'm not most people, I'm not just a hardened knight.

I'm a hero.

Even when forced to stare death in the face, a hoard of ravenous wolves charging towards me, no escape in sight, I don't back down. With my trusty sword raised high, I don't cower or run. I don't give up, even when the odds seem impossible. So I firmly stand my ground, breath steady and not an ounce of fear in my veins. I'm a knight in shining armor. I'm a fearless warrior that braves all odds. A legendary paladin that will be immortalized in history.

I was a hero.

 **Armand "Armie" Machina, 5, District 5**

 **Day 6, 9:02 PM**

 **Floor 19**

I'm terrified. Yesterday Amara asked me how I could be so brave, but I don't feel brave right now. I could handle being trapped in this room with Zarach and Amara, so most of the day was fine, if not a bit boring. At least one of Amara's sponsors sent us a meal, because even with that food my stomach is grumbling in pain. Not that a stomach ache is anywhere near the top of my worries right now.

Just two minutes ago all the lights on the floor went out, and just a minute later a canon went off. It seemed like the canon was a signal, because the second that it went off, things began to start happening. First was what sounded almost like whispers but. . . not really, I don't even know how to even explain it, it's almost. . . not human. Then after that came pattering footsteps dashing around us, but again, with something about it just a bit off that I can't figure out.

The three of us are all in the center of the room, huddled in a circle. Zarach is squared up with both fists held high, while Amara has an enviously brave look on her face-the bow held in her arms and reared back, daring a monster to try to attack her. And then there's me. Attempting to copy Amara, be just a fraction as brave as she is. But all the acting in the world doesn't stop the wobble in my legs, the shake in my hands, or the sick feeling of terror in my gut.

There's a hissing sound from right in front of me, and my face is wet with sticky saliva. Just a foot from my face, from out of the absolute darkness two red globes slowly open, and I'm sliding onto my butt, scooting backwards, a scream escaping out my lips.

Zarach turns to face me, but just as he does, another pair of red eyes opens just in front of him, this one leaping out at him with a sharp hiss. With Zarach distracted, I turn back to the one targeting me, my screams dimming down to a wimpy moan. The beast steps closer to me, it's red eyes shining brightly, lighting a dim glow over the two of us, just enough to make out the large, lizard-like body. With one final hiss, it leaps towards me, and a pathetic squeal rises from my throat, as I throw up both arms in front of me, praying that it will just leave me alone.

As I tense in preparation for the attack, I instead only hear the sound of cracking wood, followed by a pained squeal. When I lower my arms, instead of finding a mutt lashing out at me, I'm instead met with the sight of a shaky looking Amara- the bow, her hair, her face, her clothes. . . all covered in a gooey blue substance. At her feet lies the source, with the monster that I cowered from laying on the floor, lifeless.

"Are you okay?" Amara chokes out in a shaky voice, blue liquid dripping from her lips as she speaks.

"Y-y-y-yeah," I stammer out, my cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. How am I the one that's barely able to speak right now?

I'm not given much time to dwell on that question, a crunching sound coming from behind me. I twirl around just in time to see the other lizard crumple to the floor, Zarach drawing back his fist and shaking it, bringing his other hand to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles. He spares a quick glance backwards, then immediately does a double-take, crouching down to Amara's level. "Are you okay?" He breaths out rapidly, wiping the liquid away from Amara's mouth and eyes.

"Yeah," she says firmly, shaking Zarach away. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

A small smile forms on Zarach's lips, and he ruffles her hair lightly, a proud glint in his eyes. "Sure thing, buddy."

The moment is short-lived, though, a pained scream echoing from every direction. Amara and Zarach immediately go back into their previous position, back-to-back while I'm shakily frozen in place, just barely able to scramble myself up to my feet. There's footsteps all around us, and I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest as I hug my shoulders, hoping against all hope that whatever's happening just stops.

A shadow runs past me just a foot away, and I swear the body that I see looks familiar, almost like. . . oh. The realization hits at the same time that I'm met with the answer face to face, the boy that Zarach killed appearing just inches from me, a spot-on copy aside from his black, empty eyes. Summoning every inch of courage in my body, I throw up my hands, mimicking the stance Zarach took. By the times my arms are thrown up, it's already too late, and the sharpest pain of my life shoots through my gut, leaving me wordless as I crumble to the floor, a slick blade being yanked out of my stomach, the metal dripping with red as the boy holds it high in the air.

Amara is screaming my name as I crumble to the ground, and she slams the wood of the bow into the boy with strength I never knew she had, the wood snapping in half as it makes contact with the boy, him crumpling to the ground. Amara immediately turns over to me, red and blue drenching her hair and dripping from her chin and onto the floor. The wood crumbles out of her hand and onto the floor, and she's on her knees as I am, holding my shoulders to keep my from falling face-first into the ground.

The pain has spread from my gut, now a mind-numbing pain taking over every inch of my bones, so awful that I can barely even manage to let out a high pitched squeak. Tears are spilling from Amara's eyes, mixing with the thick liquid dripping on her cheeks, creating a colorful swirl of colors. I try to bring my hand up to touch it, but my arms refuse to move, and now my body is crumpling over, and I'm in Amara's lap, her staring down at me. She's screaming something, but I don't hear any of it, black already beginning to take over my vision.

With my last bit of energy, I force my hand from my stomach, my hand the darkest red I've ever seen. Shakily, I attempt to bring it up, and Amara seems to notice what I'm doing, choking out a sob as she clutches my hand with both of hers. Slowly, I manage to move it upwards, to the swirl of pretty colors on her cheek, the prettiest color I've ever seen.

My fingers brush against it lightly, Amara's hands holding mine up as my fingers drop down her cheek, a crimson red trail left behind as my hand falls limp to my side. I try to open my mouth to speak, but now I can't even let out so much as a squeak. Everything in my body is still, and even my thoughts are slowing down, as if my mind is emptying itself. There's no more pain anymore, and as my eyes drift shut, my body drained of everything, I manage to twitch my mouth, a smile forming on lips before everything fades away.

 **Shade Reinfield, 15, District 11**

 **Day 6, 10:00 PM**

 **Floor 18**

The lights flash on, the metal coverings on the doors sliding up and away. The mutts I've been fighting for the past hour lay in front of me, all with cuts and slashes at their throats and chests, blue liquid oozing out onto the floor. My muscles are aching, my knees wobbling as I allow myself to breath again, shakily dropping the katana to the ground. Turning my attention away from everything else, I focus in on Amandine, who is glued to my leg, cutting off my circulation as she clutches on desperately.

"We're okay now, Dina," I breath out, rubbing my hand through her hair. "We're alright," I choke out, closing my eyes as I let in a deep breath. "We just gotta keep on going," I murmur, more to myself then her. "Patience will get me home," I recite with bated breath.

The two of us stay locked in place for what feels like eternity, but finally I begin to ache too much to even stand, and I lightly pry Dina from my legs, crumpling to the ground as soon as she's off of me. The last hour has been hell, having to fight blindly against a seemingly endless string of mutts, all while having a gently sobbing Dina attached to my leg. . . and as much as I've tried not to, I couldn't help but want to make sure that nothing happened to her. Us two have been together in here for six days now, and tether or not. . . .

I shake my head, dusting off my pants as I climb to my feet. Taking one last glance at the monsters lying just feet away from me, I scoop Dina up, burying her head into my shoulder to block out her vision. "Come on, let's get out of here," I murmur softly, not sure where I'm headed, but knowing that I don't want to be here any more.

A part of me knows that I'm not thinking logically anymore-that I'm letting my emotions take over, but the rest of me can't find it in my battered down self to care. I've spent so much time building up these walls to avoid being hurt like I was when mom disappeared from my life, but now I can feel them crumbling down around me.

Dina still isn't speaking, though she has moved past her shocked silence, right now gently sobbing into my shoulders. Not sure what to do, I gently run my hand through her hair, racing through my thoughts for something to say to her. No matter how much I search though, for the first time in my life I find myself speechless, at a complete lack of words. What-what can you possibly say after that? After being locked in total darkness, constantly harassed by dashing footsteps and maniacal laughter and soft hissing and the occasional canon reminding you just how real this all is.

A shudder runs through me, and I bring my free hand up to my eyes, softly rubbing them as I force myself to continue breathing. In and out, just like that. Just keep on breathing, keep on moving-one foot in front of the other, keep on living-one heart beat at a time.

I'm pushing the door open now, and a part of me is yelling at me to go get my katana, to get Dina to carry as much supplies as she can hold, to check if those mutts they sent our way are edible. But my brain is completely shut down, any thoughts being screamed at my body ignored, on autopilot as I step forward-not sure where I'm headed, not even sure if I'm going anywhere in particular.

My brain is completely fried, short-circuited like a computer caught outside in a downpour. My breathing is starting to steady, my steps confident as they plunge down the steps. My heart is still beating, my feet are still moving. . . I'm still alive. "I'm still alive," I murmur to myself, wrapping my free arm around Dina's back, resting my chin on her head, fighting to keep my breath steady. As long as my breath is steady, as long as my steps are solid. . . patience will get me home. "Patience will get me home," I remind myself.

"Get _us_ home," I finish breathlessly, legs turning to jello as I step back down onto firm ground, my bare feet stinging as they touch the cold metal. Cold wind blows, prickling against my skin and causing me to shake again. When I shake again, my breath picks up, and when my breath picks up, my heart starts beating faster. Closing my eyes, I force myself to focus. In and out. Steady breath, solid steps, patience will get me home.

I run through the mantra in my head again and again, soundlessly mouthing the words as I continue on forward. Step with steady breath, step with solid feet, patience will get me home. Yet again I'm stepping onto solid ground, and I crack open my eyes, the world suddenly an unknown to me. There's steps above and beneath me, and the door in front of me, and I try to let my brain process this, but it just fizzles out. The only thing that I can force into my thoughts is those some few words. Those words that will keep me alive. Those words that _kept_ me alive. Steady breath, solid steps, patience. . . patience will get us home.

Choking out a breath, I plant a kiss on Dina's forehead, lightly rocking her back and forth. "Get us home," I breathe out.

With my eyes closed, my body stable, and my steps solid, I move my foot forwards, up in the air. . . and down on the ground. Up in the air. . . but not back down. Still in the air, frozen still, the pain in my chest too much for me to move anymore. Blood is trickling down my chest, down to my stomach and dripping onto the floor, and in the background I can hear noise. . . almost like a child's voice. Like. . . like a. . . a giggling. . . giggling kid. That's. . . yeah.

My breath is still steady, but my steps aren't solid, and my foot finally hits the ground, just as the rest of my body falls. My breath isn't steady anymore, it's slowing down, slower and slower and. . . another sharp pain comes from my chest, and now my breath is gone. No more steady breath. . . no more solid steps. . . "P-p-patience. . . g-g-get. . . home."

My voice is gone now, and so is my breath. . . but so is everything else.

* * *

 **13th: Lei: This guy was a sweetheart through and through. He didn't belong in these games, and every time I wrote him I felt my heart breaking for the guy. He was a scared little kid that tried so hard to be brave, to be someone special even when everyone told him he couldn't be. DarkHorse, thank you for this memorable, adorable little guy, I hope that you can find some solace knowing he died happy. RIP.**

 **12th: Armie: Oh god. In my time as an author, I've now killed off 39 SYOT characters. Out of those when I've regretted killing someone, I've thought, "dang, I could have really developed him better," or "man, he had a really good plot-arc I could have done." But Armie is the first character that wasn't just a character. Killing him off killed a bit of me with him, and I know this all sounds cheesy as all heck, but it really is true. Armie was a innocent little kid that wasn't brave, wasn't a hero, and most definitely wasn't fearless. Armie was just a normal, shy kid, and writing his interactions with Amara always brought a smile to my lips. Bluesquad, thank you so much for the only character that could make me both laugh and cry while writing him, and thank you for sticking with my stories through thick and thin from the very beginning. RIP.**

 **11th: Shade: Ah, Shadow. You and Dina had this amazing, complex, awkward relationship that was just so fun to write, and it was so frustrating to me because I had these awesome characters that mended together so well. . . and I just had no idea what to do with them. In the end, as late as it was, I hope that his numb realizations that he made in his final moments bring some closure to this guy. Thank you Dreamer, for this analytical, cold, distant guy that, in reality, was just a hurt kid that was scared to love. RIP.**

 **10th: Amandine: Dina fell under the same category as Shade. I loved these two to death, but while all these other ideas for what to do with others started forming, I couldn't think of how to develop these guys relationships. As late as it may have been, I hope that those few minutes of Shade finally letting himself care about Dina made all the awkwardness and cold distance worth it in the end. Celtic, thank you for this adorable little cinnamon roll. RIP.**

 **A/N: I don't even know what to say. This chapter hurt me, and it's past one in morning now that I'm finishing it and I'm just sitting here listening to sad songs on repeat and trying to keep myself fully together. As I said a few chapters ago, the form for the sequel to this story is now up on my profile. . . I don't really have the energy in me to even keep on typing, so just check my profile for all the details if you're interested.**

 **Trivia(0 point): Where were you when David was kill?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Measures:** Alt  
 _2 Knives, Moderate supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 1

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, 7 Knives, 3 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Abundant supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floors 16 and 17

 **Our Keepers:** Zarach, Amara _  
_Location: Floor 19

 **Real or Not Real?:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow  
_ Location: Floor 20


	37. Day 6: You Are My Sunshine Pt 2

**A/N: Just a note: To keep things realistic I have been and will be sending some sponsor gifts to certain districts that would be popular in the Capitol, yet aren't getting that many gifts. Enjoy a shorter chapter, with our second mentor check in!**

* * *

 _~You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

 _You make me happy when skies are gray_

 _You'll never know dear, how much I love you_

 _Please don't take my sunshine away~_

* * *

 **Atlas Hall, 37, District 6 Mentor**

 **Day 6, 10:15 PM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

Over the past ten years of mentoring I'd begun to fall into a pattern. It's an easy thing to do when faced with the same failures year after year, to repeat the same safe mistakes rather than try to experiment, with the possibility of making things even worse than they already are. When for ten years straight I was faced with the same type of tributes every year, it was really no surprise that I begun to adapt to it.

Every single year would be the same. Harmless, in no way stand-out tributes that all fell in the bloodbath, with the occasional cold and distant boy who would brute force his way to the final eight before crashing and burning. The only exceptions to that rule weren't exactly inspiring, either. Poor Heather went completely insane in that horrible arena, and Mako. . . probably the best tribute I could ever hope for, and it just so happens that eight days into the games the only ones left are her and a full strength Career pack. Nineteen days she survived on her own being hunted by both mutts and a deadly group of Careers. The most impressive thing any tribute of mine has ever done, and what's her reward? A prolonged torture from a bloodthirsty group of psychopaths. Why wish for something out of the ordinary, when that was the alternative?

That was why, no matter how much I wanted to, and as much as I acted otherwise, deep down I didn't believe that this year would be any different. No matter how well Zarach did in his Private sessions, or how many sponsors flooded Amara, I couldn't bring myself to think they really were special. That Amara wasn't just a bloodbath, that Zarach wasn't another simple brute. It's been getting easier and easier to hope that this year might actually be the one.

Seeing Armie go down was tough, but as terrible as I feel about myself for even thinking this, it really is for the best. Zarach and Amara, they can do this. They _should_ do this. And as much as it hurts to see Amara so broken up, they never had the option of both coming home, and it's better him than her. I just hope that Amara can get over Armie's death. Those two were really close, and it seems like she had some feelings for the boy. The girl is tougher than she lets on though, and I have faith in her.

And now it's my job to start pulling my own weight. The past week I've been putting in more work to find sponsors than I ever have before, and it's paid off. Quell or not, we've set records in terms of sponsorship, and now is about time to start cashing in on it. Since the pair left their supplies on floor seventeen after their run in with District Nine, the two have had completely nothing but the clothes on their backs and the ammo-less (and now broken) bow for a few days now. Now that's about to change.

Taking one last look at my screen, I read through the sponsor gifts I'm planning to send. Right now the two are huddled over towards the window, Zarach fast asleep, Amara lying next to him, her eyes wide open as she stares up at the ceiling. Earlier she was pretending to be asleep, but has seemingly given up on that now, and as long as she's awake I might as well send the sponsor gifts.

The first thing on the list is by far the most important, a weapon. With our money, I was able to afford a revolver, but only two bullets with it for now. After that is another large meal, hopefully enough to last them through all of tomorrow. The arena is starting to get empty enough that they should hopefully stumble onto some more food soon. The final item could be considered a waste, but with the money we have I'm not too worried about that. The final gift is just a simple pillow, a harmless little item that will hopefully cheer Amara up a bit.

Even with all of those gifts, there's still a bit of money left, but I decide to save it, not wanting to find myself suddenly realizing there's something I need to send a day from now-and not having the funds to do so.

Taking a deep breath, I reread the list yet again, and then hit the send button. In just a minute the window is already creaking open, Amara jumping backwards from it, while Zarach groggily climbs his way to his feet. It takes the pair a minute to both collect themselves, but when they finally do, they make quick work of the package, tearing it open greedily.

Zarach's face shows relief as he pulls out the pistol, though he does look a bit worried when he finds only two bullets in the chamber. Clicking the safety on, he straps it on his belt, moving on to the large meal with a look of determination locked on his face.

Amara isn't interested in either of those things though, already having the pillow in her clutches, hugging it tightly against her chest as she leans against the wall. The image throws me for a loop, the picture on my desk of my own daughter catching my eye. The same bright blue eyes just barely covered up by the bangs of her brown hair, even in the same pose, my own daughter clutching her favorite stuffed animal close to her chest.

The comparison hits hard, and I immediately purge the thought from my mind.

I can't afford to start getting sentimental. Not now. Not when I'm so close. This year is going to be it.

It has to be.

 **Dalton Faux, 22, District 3 Mentor**

 **Day 6, 10:20 PM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

For a District known for its technology and inventions, District Three has had a serious lack of intelligent tributes the last few years. I've had competent tributes, brutes, and completely bat-shit insane tributes in my first four years of mentoring, six out of eight even managing to make the top ten. But smart? Not a single one of them. And while of course every rule has its exceptions, it tends to take more than just brute force to win the games. It takes a combination of cunning intellect and a willingness to do whatever it takes to win.

Alt is the first one of my tributes to possess that quality. Right now, back in Three, people are probably hating her for what she did to her 'poor little district partner,' but they'll forget about her 'betrayal' as soon as the food from her victory starts pouring in. They always do.

The people in this room are just as much a 'monster' as Alt and I are, as much as they like to all separate themselves and think that they're somehow morally superior. But all of these people are just as willing to kill as we are. The only thing that separates us is we don't try to pretend otherwise.

I won my games by taking on the role of a charming, but not battle ready leader. I put together a five man alliance and twisted and manipulated my way into the finale with my only remaining alliance member, Aspen. And when she, against all odds, managed to overtake the boy from one and kill him, she took a dagger to the back. She was my only real kill, since they technically don't count me tripping that bitch from five and letting the Careers take her down. Girl was on to me, and almost ruined my entire plan- but we can see who got the last laugh there.

The others may not like how I won my games, but I think it's rather hypocritical of them to criticize me for it, especially considering the things they did in order to escape those games alive.

Achilles strangled a thirteen-year-old girl who was just trying to run from the bloodbath. Caleb won his games by locking his own district partner out of the safe room during a nuclear meltdown, letting her be tortuously turned into a liquid mess. Tristan stabbed a fourteen-year-old in the eye. Atlas kicked a poor, sobbing girl's fingers until they broke and she was dropped from a mile up.

Abandoning your district partner fits quite well into that list, really.

While Alt's strategy is much more rough than mine, her acting skills thoroughly unimpressive, she still has found her way into very possibly the best situation of anyone in these games. Completely unattached to a useless child, willing to do what it takes to win. When push comes to shove, Alt will be ready-I'm not sure if the same can be said for the others here.

The pair from One was dangerous at first, but they've both softened up as the games have progressed. Zarach and Amara may be popular, but that doesn't change the fact that the two are a complete and utter mess. District Eight has only gotten this far by chance, and luck never lasts forever. The only duo that really poses a threat to Alt is District Two, but that's only if those two manage to not kill each other first.

Looking around the mentor room, this year certainly is different. I've been here for the final eight every single year, and it's never before been this quiet. Usually it's this time of the games that the mentor room begins to heat up. There's strategizing and hushed whispers, yelling matches and fits of rage when a tribute dies. But looking around the room, every single mentor is locked in on their screen, dead silent and a glint in their eyes.

This year is different. This room is filled to the brim with losers. Drunks, addicts, and failures. This is the chance to turn that around, to have a new hope. To do something right for once in their worthless lives.

But I'm not going to give them that chance.

 **Caleb Ainsley, 39, District 5 Mentor**

 **Day 6, 10:25 PM**

 **Mentor Room, The Games Center**

Armie's death hit Audra hard. There really isn't anybody to blame but myself. I knew that the kid wasn't going to win, and I freaking knew that the Capitol would go and pull that crap, too. That they would send some mutts in to kill him for the 'shock value' of seeing the happy little alliance broken apart. Every inch of me knew that it was going to happen, and yet I did nothing to try to prepare Audra for it. Guess it makes sense that a failure of a mentor would fail at helping even the tributes he miraculously does bring home.

He had to die like that, too, didn't he? At least last year, it was about as easy as possible on her. The tributes were two bickering, unskilled, and not very sympathetic teens that died relatively easily in the bloodbath. But Armie's death. . . even I felt a bit queasy from that one. I've mentored forty-seven tributes to their deaths now, and while I can't say that this is the hardest-hitting death I've had so far(I'll never be able to forgive myself for how horrifically I failed Pam), seeing Audra's reaction only made it all that much more raw.

She was at her desk when the death happened, watching nervously as the lights turned off and mutts began to attack the group. And when Armie caught that blade to the stomach. . . Audra just about fell apart. You know that it's particularly bad when they don't even cry, instead just frozen in shock and disbelief, a spacey look in their eyes as if they aren't even really there. It's been over an hour now since her death, and she still has barely even blinked, locked in her seat, staring blankly at the screen. Part of me just wishes for her to break out in tears, to just let it all out.

I can see that look in her eyes, and recognize it well. She's blaming herself for Armie's death. Why she would possibly think there was anything else she could have done to save him, I can't figure out for the life of me. It's not as if I've never blamed myself for a tribute's death, but. . . in those cases I was usually right to. Audra's done as good a job at mentoring as you could possibly expect from a fifteen-year-old who has a drunkard like me for her 'mentor.'

The avox arrives with the drinks I ordered, and I take the two from the man, raising one of the mugs in his direction and nodding. Once he's gone I turn back over to Audra, gently setting down one of the mugs in front of her, rolling my chair over to her side. "Drink up," I tell her casually, nursing my cup as I watch her ignore it completely. "You should get it while it's hot."

"I thought you said I should cut back on coffee," she monotones, still staring red-eyed at the black screen in front of her.

"Hot chocolate," I correct her, flashing a half-smile. "Your favorite," I remind her, smiling back at the memory of her trying the drink for the first time. Her eyes lit up and she was just about floating in joy, walking on clouds for the whole rest of the day. I remember finding it funny how she found so much joy in such a small thing. Her winning those games. . . I needed it. I can't even say for a fact that I would still be in the land of the living if she hadn't won. A man can only take so many losses in one lifetime.

"How do you do it," Audra whispers, clutching the mug with both hands and bringing it up to her mouth, but not drinking it down, leaving it hanging by her quivering lips.

I don't have to ask her to clarify, knowing fully well what she means. "I know it may not feel like it right now," I tell her, dragging my hands down my cheeks with a loud sigh. "But you just learn to cope with the pain."

She glances over at me, seemingly not expecting this answer. Taking that as my queue, I continue along. "I'm not going to lie to you and say it ever stops hurting, because it doesn't. My second year as a mentor. . ." I shudder as I recall the memories of that year, but force myself to keep going. This isn't about me, it's for Audra. "One of my tributes was a girl named Pam. A complete sweetheart, funny, genuine, and so kind she couldn't harm a fly." My voice cuts off, and I struggle to continue, bringing my hand up to the bridge of my nose.

"What happened?" Audra asks softly, inching her chair closer to me.

"The boy. . . her district partner. . . he didn't like her. That was my fault, really. I ignored him and put my full attention on Pam and he got jealous and at the bloodbath he ran straight over to Pam and. . . well," I sigh, rubbing my temples, "he was a big guy, snapped her neck like a toothpick. Just like that, she was gone in an instant. . . still see her in my nightmares, no matter how black-out drunk I get," I mutter bitterly. Shaking my head, I drop my hands back to my side, recollecting myself as best as I can. "Pam was the first one to die, and then it was Amara. Elysia, Jed, Addison, Julian. . ." I trail off, numbly reaching out for the mug of hot chocolate, if only to hold something warm. "It hurts like hell to lose them," I tell her with a hoarse voice. "I know. But trust me when I say that bringing back just one kid makes it all worth it."

This manages to eek a smile out of her, the tiniest hint of one forming on the corners of her lips, before quickly dissipating as she looks down into the mug clutched in her hands. "I don't know if I can survive twenty more years of this," she admits shakily.

"It isn't about whether or not you can survive, because I know you can," I tell her with a weak smile. "It's. . . it's about finding something to live for. Something to get you up in morning, and keep you from falling flat on your face during the day."

Audra takes a moment to digest this, taking a small sip from her mug, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she brings it away, setting it down on her desk. The smile doesn't stay long, though, and now she's looking at me confused, as if something finally clicked in her mind. "Why are you telling me all of this?" She asks, a look in her eyes pleading with me to tell the truth, telling me she knows there's something more that I'm not telling her. She always was good at reading me.

"Because you looked like you needed to hear it," I tell her half-truthfully.

She seems to accept the answer, giving a small nod, her solemn look being traded out for her careless smile as she picks back up the mug, extending it out towards me. "Well," she says brightly, only a drop of sadness slipping into her voice. "Here's to. . . finding reasons to live."

I lightly clink her mug, and she draws hers back for a swig, myself taking a small sip before setting it back on the desk, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. A part of me feels guilty as I watch Audra greedily gulping down her drink, giving me flashbacks to my first time meeting her on the trains. . . but I quickly shake it off, elbows rested on the table and forehead bowed down over my folded fists. "Cheers," I murmur, shaking my head and slinging my bag over my shoulder as I hop out of the seat.

Audra lets out a loud, satisfied sigh as she slams down the mug, giggling lightly as she does, earning more than a few blank stares from the remainder of the room. She hops out of her seat, her own bag being carelessly tossed onto her back.

"You got a talent there," I tease her, earning an eye roll as she brushes past me.

"Learned from the best," she prods back, walking backwards to face me, a half-smile fighting past her attempted dead-pan.

"Yeah," I snort, slinging an arm around her shoulder as she turns back around, "you sure did."

* * *

 **A/N: So not a ton happening, but this is some background and development for some characters you guys will be seeing a lot of in the sequel. Hope you guys enjoyed the shorter, relatively laid back chapter, and I'll see you guys as we hit the one week mark next time! I have a poll on my profile, and submissions are still going, so be sure to send 'em in!**

 **Trivia(1 point): How did Caleb win his games?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Measures:** Alt  
 _2 Knives, Dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 1

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory, Rio, Fiona  
 _Katana, 7 Knives, 3 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Large supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floors 16 and 17

 **Our Keepers:** Zarach, Amara  
 _Revolver, 2 Bullets, Dwindling supply of food and water_ _  
_Location: Floor 19

 **Real or Not Real?:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow, 1 Arrow  
_ Location: Floor 20


	38. Day 7: Memories

**A/N: I doubt this will be an issue since all of you guys are pretty awesome about this type of stuff, but just as a reminder, the ideas and thoughts that tributes have are THEIRS, not mine. Just because I write something doesn't mean I agree or disagree with, I'm just portraying the characters. Again, I don't think it'll be a problem, but just putting this here just in case.**

 **Also, another doozy of a chapter length-wise, so be prepared for that.**

* * *

 _~Oh memories!_

 _Where'd you go?_

 _You were all I've ever known!_

 _How I miss yesterday!_

 _And how I let it fade away?_

 _Where'd you go?~_

* * *

 **Coira Thompson,** **31, Hunger Games Announcer**

 **Day 7, 9:05 AM**

 **District Five Suites, The Games Center**

Nothing can quite match the smell of a steaming cup of coffee in the morning. After all the stress of yesterday, finally being found a temporary place to stay and being able to go to sleep was a relief. I was out the moment my head hit the pillow.

I have a strict schedule to adhere to though, and so as much as I'd like to just lie bed all day, Connie curled up next to me, I'm forced to crawl out of bed and get myself ready for the long day ahead. Luckily the commute to the announcers booth isn't far, just an elevator ride away, and so after completing my morning routine, I still have a half-hour to kill before work.

The warm mug in my hands, I lean back in my chair, letting my eyes drift shut. While I'm not much of one to waste time doing nothing, there really isn't anything to do right now. Connie is still asleep-and will most likely be until noon, and the television is completely off limits. Practically every channel is covering the games in some way, and the announcers are supposed to stay blind on what's happened while they're off their shift.

They make us do it in order to make our reactions to the night-time highlights authentic, not that there's been anything to react to this year. With such a splintered Career alliance and no benefit to hunting at night-or mutts that keep you awake- the nocturnal hours have only been used for sleeping. As odd as this whole situation is, it really has been a good games for an announcer's first year. Plenty of interesting tributes to talk about, not too much confusing to explain, and no hectic bloodbath to attempt to commentate.

"Mornin'," a light, feminine voice yawns out.

Drifting my eyes open, I unsurprisingly find a very tired looking Audra trudging out in a full set of white pajamas, her bare feet dragging against the carpeted floor as she drops into a dining chair opposite of mine. "Morning," I reply simply as her head drops onto the table unceremoniously. "Not much of a morning person?"

"I was," she yawns out again, groggily rubbing her eyes. "And then after thirty days sleeping on dirt, you guys gave me these comfy beds. How am I supposed to _ever_ get up out of those things now?" She asks with a quiet giggle.

"I know the struggle," I smile back.

An avox hurriedly walks up to Audra, gently placing down a coffee mug in front of her. "Thanks," she says gently, smiling warmly at him before downing the cup with impressive speed, somehow managing to avoid burning her tongue. She sees my look of confusion and shrugs sheepishly. "I know I don't have to say thanks, I just like to."

"Oh, I was more wondering about you chugging down a scalding cup of coffee faster than Caleb downs his alcohol." She laughs at the joke, her cheeks going just a bit red. "Speaking of the devil-"

"He already left last night," Audra pipes up, any signs of tiredness gone. "They want me to stay here for some interviews and stuff, though, so I have to stay here a few more days."

Humming in acknowledgement, I take in a deep breath through my nose, enjoying the warm smell of my still in-tact cup of coffee. Never could stand the taste of the stuff, but there's nothing quite like that smell. "Speaking of interviews," I breath out, trying to think of how to word this as gently as possible. "I was thinking of what you told me. . ."

She seems to know exactly what I'm talking about, her expression falling as the smile drops from her lips. She looks down into her empty cup, anxiously twiddling her thumbs.

"I was talking with Jaycen, and he wanted to have a chat with you. It's nothing formal, and nothing would be on the record." I hold my tongue from saying anything else, knowing that what he told me was in confidence that I would keep it secret. The terrorist attacks have been getting out of hand, and Jaycen isn't the only one starting to get suspicious that something bigger is happening here.

"Isn't he busy with all of the attacks going on?" Audra asks wearily, nervously twirling a strand of hair.

"He. . ." I think carefully on my next words, "has some suspicions that he'd like to investigate."

The avox arrives again with another cup of coffee, Audra silently thanking him. She doesn't guzzle this cup, instead just slowly sipping from it, her hands shakily clutching onto its sides. "I don't know-" she breaths out shakily.

"It's your decision to make," I tell her in the most encouraging voice I can muster. "Just do what you think is right."

Audra goes silent at that, looking down thoughtfully at her mug as she nurses it. After a couple of minutes have passed she looks back up at me, a wobbly smile forced onto her lips. "Whoever wins this year. . ." she trails off, choking out a breath. "I can't. . . I can't let that happen to them," she resolves, looking back down into her cup. "I'll do it," she says quietly.

I smile at her wordlessly, nodding my head. We aren't in silence for long, the sound of a door opening and shutting coming from the hall. Reaching over to her, I pat her hands, and she looks up from her cup with a sad smile.

One way or another, this is all coming to an end. Change is in the air, everyone can feel it. I can only hope that tomorrow will be a better future than yesterday's.

 **Noa Jacquard, 15, District 8**

 **Day 7, 9:30 AM**

 **Floor 20**

Nearly two-thirds of the tributes are dead. The big guy I talked with before our interviews, the boy I nearly allied with, one of the kids that Fey became friends with during training. . . all of them are gone. In just seven days fifteen kids have died. Yet here I still am. The insane chick from Eight that everyone pitied because she was going to surely die in the bloodbath.

Last night was nearly my last. When the metal doors came down and the lights went off, I thought I was just hallucinating. It wasn't until Fey was woken up by the every-increasingly loud whispers and started screaming that I realized it was real. I was barely able to get my hands on the bow in time, the arrow lodging itself in the humanoid mutt's eye as its blade was just inches from my neck.

The rest of the night there were a couple more mutts, but nothing that I couldn't easily handle. It seemed to me the whole time that the Gamemakers were trying to drive us insane more than they were looking to actually kill us. Maybe put all of us on even footing.

The Gamemakers can't shake me, though. The fact that this was real doesn't diminish the fact that I deal with that same type of terror every day. It's been in the arena that it's all gotten particularly bad. It wasn't until they jacked me up on those meds, and I had that one blissful night of calm, that I realized just how horrible the normality I'd fallen into really is.

I don't see Calico anymore. He stopped appearing yesterday morning, my hallucinations instead taking on a darker turn. Scratching against the door, whispers alike the ones made by that mutt, even blood dripping down the wall. A constant barrage of things that I know can't be real, yet can't reconcile with my senses. It's hard to convince the breathing on the back of the neck is fake when it feels so real.

Fey has been a blessing in that aspect. If I didn't have somebody to remind be of reality, to reign me back to earth before I get lost in my head. . . I'd be right back to where I started, and the one good thing that's come from this whole experience would be gone.

"Noa!" Fey's voice brings me back out of my thoughts, and I look over to ensure that it really is Fey calling to me before I respond. Once I manage to lock onto the voice standing next to the doorway, and spot the short, tanned girl with golden flakes in her dark brown eyes, I allow myself to reply.

"What's up?" I ask casually, drumming my fingers on the table like some hot-shot executive.

"This door wasn't here yesterday. . . " she trails off, head tilted as she looks bemusedly at the door.

I had noticed the door earlier, but hadn't even entertained the thought of bothering the then-sleeping Fey with such a seemingly obvious hallucination. Who knows what else I may have missed. . .

"Noa?" Fey snaps me back into reality, and I vigorously shake my head.

"Sorry, just thinking," I tell her as I hop to my feet, taking a hard look at the door as I walk towards it. The door is unlike any of the others I've seen in the arena, a silvery slab of metal stuck on the wall, a fingerprint scanner next to it and a golden nameplate displayed prominently at my eye height.

"What does that say?" She asks inquisitively, peeking up as she stretches out on her tip-toes.

"Presidential suite," I read, a slight smile forming on my lips. "That sounds promising."

"How do we get in?" She asks, the door not budging so much as a millimeter as she shoves against it.

My gaze falls on the fingerprint scanner again, and hoping that I'm not about to just stick my thumb into thin air, I press against it. The screen lights up, an outline of my thumb appearing as a green line slides up and down. After a few seconds, the screen fades to black, and I step back from it, the door opening just a moment later, the metal sliding apart from the middle and into the walls.

"Huh, didn't expect that to work," I murmur as I step through, Fey hot on my heels.

As soon as I step into the room, my jaw just about drops, my eyes bulging out of their sockets. The room is one massive square, the floor covered in velvet red carpeting, the walls clean white of some material that looks half-plastic and half-metal. Crystal chandeliers hang throughout the room, a massive flat-screen television covering an entire wall and a king sized bed in the dead center facing towards it. Mini-fridges line the wall opposite from the television, and there's a landline phone on top of the counter sitting next to the bed.

None of that is what catches my eye, though. No, that would be the far wall, or the lack thereof, the entire wall replaced by glass. I tentatively step towards it, now able to make out a sliding glass door in the center of the wall. Through the glass the view is nothing like it was on the other floors. For the first time in a week I can see the bright blue sky, a fusion of brilliant bright orange and a deep red blending together towards the bottom of the sky, reaching downwards and peeking through the lush green forest.

The view is less like reality and more like the type of sunrise you would imagine as a kid, pure and untainted by the smog of nearby factories, so picturesque that I question whether or not something so beautiful could even really exist.

"It's real," Fey breaths out, slowly walking past me, awe shining in her eyes, a pure smile on her lips as she steps forward. She places a tentative hand on the glass, her fingertips brushing against it lightly, as if even she's questioning her sight. "I hope that it's real."

 **Amara Ekkal, 7, District 6**

 **Day 7, 10:25 AM**

 **Floor 19**

I don't want to be in the games anymore. Before, everything was just about having fun. The whole time was just swimming, playing with Armie, teasing Zarach. . . I had no idea what was really going on. Armie. . . he-he's. . . .

Burying my head into my knees, I choke out a sob, no more tears even left in me at this point. I'll never hear Armie's funny little giggle that he does, never get to tease him for whatever silly thing that he does, never get to sit up late at night and just talk about stupid stuff, trying our best to not laugh too loud to wake Zarach up.

All of that time eating lunch together, learning how to swim with him, making up games to kill the time. . . none of that ever again. The whole thing hits me harder than I can take, the thought really hitting me fully for the first time. He's dead. And now I just want to curl up into a ball and cry myself back to sleep again and never wake up again. Never have to deal with this aching pain in my chest, not being able to stop myself from sobbing, everything that I try to think of to distract me leading me back to the same place.

My best friend is gone, and he'll never even know so many things about me. I'll never know so much about him. I still hadn't managed to squeeze out of him who it was he was talking to at the party the night before we came to this arena. He still hadn't found out what that stupid question was that I chickened out of. And he'll never find it what the answer was. . .

Another sob comes from me, this time a stream of tears pouring down my cheeks with it. I feel so cold suddenly, completely and utterly alone. My hand brushes up to my cheek, wiping away a tear, but as I do another memory pops in my head. Armie lying in my lap, dark red pooling out of his gut, barely gulping in air as he shakily brings his hand up to my cheek, creating a swirl of red and blue that stained my cheek as it mixed with my tears, only a faded remnant of it still in place.

He was trying to say something, but as much as he fought he wasn't able to let out more then just a pained squeak. His final moments were him crying, wanting to tell me something but not being able to. I asked Zarach last night, after it was all over, where he was now. . . now that he wasn't here anymore. He started talking about him being happy, in a place where he was never hurt again, but I could tell he didn't believe it. When I told him that he just sighed and lowered his head, and told me that he didn't actually know, but he sure liked to hope that it really was true.

When I asked him what he thought really happened, he didn't answer. All last night I tried to convince myself that Zarach was wrong, that Armie really was in a perfect place, but. . . every time I tried to tell myself that, the image of Armie lying lifeless in my arms would force its way into my thoughts, and I thought of how much he was hurting, and how much I'm hurting now. . . and I can't even imagine a place where nobody ever hurts. If a place like that really could exist. . . then why would anyone send us here?

"Hey," Zarach coos, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as he loudly takes a seat next to me. "How you holding up?"

"I want to go home," I choke out through sobs. "This isn't fun anymore," my voice cracks, and yet again more tears are drenching my cheeks. I don't even have the energy in me to try to stop the tears, and I just let them all out, crying until there's nothing left in me, curled up like a baby, forehead pressed to my knees.

"I know," he says softly, rubbing circles in my back. "I do too."

"I miss him," I squeak out.

"I know," he repeats, not offering any further encouragement. No telling me that it's all going to be okay, that he's happier now. No attempts to distract me, or to cheer me up, just an empty silence thickly filling the air.

We sit there for what feels like ages, the same string of thoughts running through my head on repeat. Armie is gone. The thing I never got to tell him. Armie is _dead_. I don't know where he is now, and I'll never see or hear him again.

It's like a loop, only finally being interrupted by a high-pitched beeping, slowly increasing in volume. Zarach is up on his feet, and I manage to connect the sound to last night, recognizing it as the sound that came before gifts arrived through the window. I peek in between my arms, not having the will to get up, and feeling too embarrassed to show my bright red, tear-stained cheeks.

Zarach slowly unwraps the box, and opens it up, peeking inside. He stares at it for just a few seconds before silently picking it up, a blank expression as he sets it next to me. "It's for you, buddy."

"I don't care what it is," I mutter, feeling too broken to feel bad about snapping at Zarach.

He doesn't even flinch, though, just walking away from the box. "I think you will."

I don't react to that, waiting until I can't hear his footsteps anymore to slowly lower my arms, shakily reaching over to the box and bringing it to my chest, clutching onto it like its my lifeline. After a minute of sitting like this I steel up enough to raise my arms to uncover the box, wearily peeking inside, bracing myself for the absolute worst.

But when I glance down, the only thing I feel is complete confusion. Pulling the chocolate bar out of the box, I turn it over, trying to figure out what's so special about it before my eyes land on the note that was hidden beneath it. My fingers are quick to search it out, gripping it tightly as I hold it up to my eyes.

 _Do it for him._

 _-Audra_

The second that I finish reading, the memory comes rushing back to me. The night we saw the scores. I was in the elevator, crying about how bad I was going to do. Armie, being the selfless, adorable guy that he was, made me a bet to cheer me up. He told me that he bet that I scored higher than him, knowing full well that I did worse. But he said it anyways, because he couldn't stand seeing me sad. . . and the thing that he bet. . . .

My eyes land back on the chocolate bar, and I half-expect myself to burst into tears again, but none come this time as I reach out for the candy, pulling it tightly to my chest. I'm never going to get to see Armie again, but. . . if he could talk to me right now, then what would he say? He'd probably crack some dumb joke, tease himself to try to make me feel better about myself. To try to stop me from crying, and get me to smile again, no matter what else in the world is going on.

A smile quivers onto my lips at the thought, and I hold back a sob, letting out a deep breath. I'm going to go home, and I'm going to go there with a smile. No matter how much I want to breakdown and cry, just curl up into a ball and fall asleep and never wake up again. . . I'll keep on smiling.

For him.

 **Fiona Graham, 7, District 2**

 **Day 7, 11:10 AM**

 **Floor 18**

These games are officially the most boring ever. I've spent seven days having to look at Rio's dumb face, only seeing the same three people all week. The only time I've run into anyone else was that dopey boy from Eleven, who was wandering around in a daze. He never even realized that I stabbed him in the back, and my first kill was thoroughly disappointing.

Now there's only eight other tributes left in this arena, just seven more chances to get an actual kill. The pair from Eight won't be any good, but shutting up that chirpy girl from Six would be nice. I was a bit sad to see that Lei got killed already, but his partner will be an okay replacement. But none of those are the kill that I really want.

My eyes lock onto Glory as she sits cross-legged next to Gloria, the two apparently chummy now, giggling together like little girls. I want nothing more right now than the chance to sink a knife into her throat. Or maybe I'll go for just a slit, that always seemed like it was more painful. Whatever draws out her pain as much as possible, without giving her actually competent partner a chance to take me out.

It wouldn't have to come to this if we actually did something, but since everyone else here is happy to just sit around doing nothing-I'll have to make some action myself. We were even just sent a revolver this morning, for Snow's sake. Yet instead of going out and hunting with it, and bringing us to the final eight already, they're just sitting around twiddling their thumbs.

Rio took the pistol and is holding it carefully, so stealing that isn't an option. Luckily they haven't managed to pry my knife collection from me yet, as much as Rio has tried to. My four knives are still safely held at my belt, my fingers tracing over the handles impatiently.

I don't understand why Rio isn't more grateful, really. He talks all the time about how much he wants to go home and become a Peacekeeper, yet he's doing absolutely nothing to make sure he wins the games.

But while he may be willing to sit on his butt and just hope that he gets home by pure luck, I'll be doing everything I can to get back. My dream has always been to be a victor, and to get to be the youngest of all time would just make it that much sweeter. To get to live in Victors Village with Achilles, Livia, Brick, and Garen? I get giddy just thinking about it, and now I'm so close to making it a reality.

Alerio steps out of sight, murmuring something about counting our supplies, and my eyes fall back to the pair from one. I can't really tell who's who, but one of them is facing towards me while the other has her back turned. The one facing me seems completely sucked up in the conversation though, and doesn't seem to have a weapon on her. Gloria's katana is sitting harmlessly a few feet away, and both of their knives are with it. So unless Rio gave them his knife, they're completely unarmed.

My hand wraps around the handle of my blade as I quietly slink up to my feet. Her neck is completely exposed, just a few yard away from me. This has been a long time coming now, and I'm going to enjoy every moment of this.

One step closer to victory.

 **Glory Fairfax, 9, District 1**

 **Day 7, 11:10 AM**

 **Floor 18**

"So you never explained your token," I bring up to Gloria, pointing towards the gold star sticker on her chest.

"Our academy, up until your twelve, measures your success with giving you these stars. This was the first one I ever got," she says absently, rubbing her finger over the star. "What about you?" She asks suddenly, glancing up at me and dropping her hands to her sides. "You bring a token?"

"No," I respond with a shake of my head. "Never really had anything super memorable that somebody gave me," I say truthfully, shrugging.

She falls silent at that, seeming to be remembering something, and my thoughts wander as well. The past week, or two weeks really, have been a roller-coaster. The moment I was reaped was the most terrified I've been in my life. The only thought that was echoing through my mind was that I was going to die. That if Concord couldn't win the games, how could I?

Things didn't get much better from there. Lucian, Aurum, and Helix all ignored me, only occasionally taking the time to berate me for doing something wrong. And now every single one of them are dead. Gloria told me about the aftermath of the attack yesterday, and it was an odd feeling to have-to know that everyone who told me that I would be lucky to get past the bloodbath, were all gone before the games even started.

The true rock bottom came after the run in with Nova, though. That first time I met him on the rooftop, he was there to try to cheer me up at my most vulnerable. While I fought back tears, he was there to help me feel better. Then when I saw him in the arena, it was like none of that even mattered, and I sent that knife into his forehead without a second thought. It's funny how fast you can turn into the exact type of person that you thought you would never be.

But if the sinking feeling in my gut and aching pain in my chest wasn't enough to convince me that I'm no killer, then talking with Gloria yesterday was. Seeing how someone who was so similar to me turned into somebody so different. . . it made me realize just how easy it would be to fall in her same path. So I promised myself yesterday, that no matter what happens, no matter how scared I am, nobody else will die because of me.

I don't care if my family is ashamed of me, or if the Capitol forces me to become a killer if I want to win. I'm not going to let myself be turned into something I'm not, however tempting it might be to take the easy way out of the games.

"You ever wonder what you'd be doing right now, if you didn't get reaped?' Gloria asks out of the blue.

"I don't know," I reply truthfully, shrugging. "Same thing I always do, I guess."

Gloria goes to respond, but pauses with her mouth open, eyes narrowing in confusion. Her eyes widen in shock, and she leaps out towards me, shoving me to the side. I roll over, just barely catching a glance of a knife stabbing into the carpet as I spin onto my side.

I quickly kick out my feet, crawling myself away from the fighting, turning to see what's happening. Just as I turn around, Fiona pulls the knife out of the ground, shooting daggers at me as she attempts to charge towards me. I'm frozen in half-shock and half-fear, sitting still as she runs towards me. Luckily for me, I don't have to defend myself, Gloria diving at her and tackling her to the ground.

The two wrestle for just a short second before Gloria manages to grapple the knife away. She stabs at Fiona's head, just barely missing as she rolls out of the way. Gloria slashes at her neck this time, and Fiona just barely gets her hands up to defend, letting out a scream as blood squirts out from wrist, writhing in pain as she pulls her hands to her chest.

Everything is happening so fast, and in another instant the knife is buried in Fiona's head, the screaming and squirming stopping and being replaced by a dead silence.

 _Boom!_

The canon slices through the thick air, and I can feel myself shaking, hyperventilating as I sit, frozen in shock. Gloria has a surprised look in her eyes, letting the knife clatter to the ground as she pulls it out, dropping down to the ground. Her body looks completely calm, the only evidence of any sort of turmoil shining through her eyes. "I had to," she breathes out, running a hand through her hair.

Alerio runs up to us, and for the first time I remember the twist, a sick feeling in my stomach as I watch his expression morph at the sight of Fiona. His face goes pale as a shudder runs through his body, shakily taking a seat on the floor, the three of us all seated in a triangle, Fiona's lifeless corpse in the center.

"Oh god," Gloria chokes out weakly, covering her eyes with her slightly bloodied hands. "Oh, god."

Rio's whole body is shaking now, and he slowly climbs to his feet, whispering out something inaudible for before collapsing back to the ground face-first, his canon echoing off as his body thumps against the carpet.

 _Boom!_

"I'm so sorry," Gloria shakily chokes out, eyes peeking above her hands and up the ceiling, a tear dripping past her hands and rolling down her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

 **9th: Fiona: I had so much fun with this girl. She was spunky, unafraid to speak her mind, and a tiny little villain. Fiona was a pleasant surprise for me, a type of character I never realized how much I wanted until I got her. While it's easy to look at her as a completely evil bad guy, you can't forget that in the end, she was only just a kid, a fact that I feel I didn't do a good job developing with her. I originally had a much bigger arc planned out for her, but it fell through for reasons I can't explain yet-in order to avoid spoiling the finale. Nonetheless, above all else, Fiona was so much fun to write. Pine, thank you for this bubblegum princess who proves that looks can be deceiving. RIP.**

 **8th: Alerio: Okay, so, again I can't go too far into this to avoid spoilers, but Rio originally had much more planned for him. He was one of the first characters that I got, and the instant I got him I said to myself: "this is my victor." He was a wonderful, unique, complex character that I had so much fun writing, and the words just came spilling out when I sat down to write his chapters. There's so much more I want to say, but I'll bite my tongue for now to avoid spoilers, and just leave it at this. Midnight, thank you for this stoic, brave soldier with a warm heart. RIP.**

 **A/N: Things are shaking up this chapter, and we are SO CLOSE to the end now. Next chapter will be the Final Eight interviews, so we'll get a slight break from the games before getting back to wrap them up! Make sure to tell me what your thoughts on the developments this chapter, and I'll be seeing you guys soon!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Who's final 7 interview are you most looking forward to?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Measures:** Alt  
 _2 Knives, Dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 13

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory  
 _Katana, 3 Knives, 2 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Moderate supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floors 18

 **Our Keepers:** Zarach, Amara  
 _Revolver, 2 Bullets_ _  
_Location: Floor 19

 **Real or Not Real?:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow  
_ Location: Floor 21


	39. Final 8 Interviews: House of Memories

**A/N: So, to keep things interesting, I'm going to be doing these interviews a bit differently. The interviewer herself will be a couple of the POV's, but we'll also get to see the POV of some other characters too. I LOVE writing these chapters, so kick back and relax, and enjoy part one of this whopping chapter!**

 **Note: June 8th is day 8 in the arena.**

* * *

 _~Promise me a place_

 _In your house of memories~_

* * *

 **Coira Thompson,** **31, Stand-in Hunger Games Interviewer**

 **June 8th, 12:00 PM**

 **Ewing Street, District One**

"We're on an in a minute," the producer calls out, murmurs running through the production as they make last minute prep.

"Got it," I reply back calmly, resisting the strong urge to nervously run a hand through my hair. My prep team would just about murder me if I ruined their carefully prepared outfit, and I'd rather stay off of Quentin's bad side. My dad has told me plenty of horror stories about her revenge plots when year after year he couldn't end his habit of ruffling his hair. Quentin right now is looking at me as her holy savior from the twenty-four year nightmare of my fathers reign as interviewer, and I'll be doing my best to keep that image in tact.

With District One still in the games, Apollo is still mentoring, leaving a hole in his interviewer spot. Considering I've already taken over his announcing spot, and am being heavily considered for interviewer next year, the decision to have me be his replacement was a simple one. Besides, nobody else was exactly jumping at the opportunity to replace the most popular Hunger Games Interviewer of all time, for what was going to be his last ever time interviewing.

"We are live, in 5. . ." I'm brought out of my thoughts, and let out a deep breath, calming myself. Just follow dad's advice. All I have to is be myself. "4, 3, 2. . . " his voice cuts off and he points towards me, a broad smile forming naturally on my lips.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen, to the Final _Seven_ Interviews for the one-hundredth Hunger Games." A small crowd of District One citizens formed beyond me lets out a holler, and a laugh escapes from me. "That's right, in case you didn't guess from the rabid enthusiasm, we are here in the enchanting District One to kick this year off." Another cheer rises from the crowd, and this time even a few of the people from production laugh along with me.

"District One is on a hot-streak as of late, of course winning the games last year, as well as securing a second and eighth placing two years back. Speaking of those two tributes, both of them may be familiar to those of you have been paying close attention to the Career alliance this year. The tributes from the ninety-eighth Hunger Games were each the older siblings of our two tributes this year, the so-close-that-you-can't-help-but-wonder-if-they're-long-lost-twins dynamic duo, Glory and Gloria." The loudest roar yet comes from the crowd, and I join with them, giggling as I pump a fist in the air.

"First up on the docket today," I start as I turn and begin walking down the lively street, people stopping and watching as we pass by, children tugging on the pants of their parents as they point enthusiastically. "We're here on Ewing Street, the lively heart of District One, and home of Glory Fairfax."

With that I turn from the camera, the crew hurriedly following me as I walk down a block before stopping in front of a relatively normal looking two-story home, a light green coloring painting the front, only a few windows lining the house. "And here we are at the charming Fairfax residence, let's go say hello to the family, shall we?"

I casually walk up the short side-walk, not much of a front-yard to the house, certainly not large enough to hold a car. With a spring in my step, I knock twice, the door opening just a few seconds later, the family fully anticipating our arrival.

Opening the door for me is the vaguely familiar face of Justice, Glory's father. He has a wide grin on his lips and a naturally cheerful disposition, his platinum blonde hair shining as the sun burns down on him, his emerald green eyes sparkling with joy.

"Pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Fairfax," I respectfully greet him, expecting him to not want such a formal interview, but allowing him to make that distinction himself.

Sure enough, he waves his hand and laughs. "Please, Mr. Fairfax makes me sound like an old man, call me Justice."

"Well then it's nice to meet you Justice," I tell him, extending my arm for a handshake.

He ignores the hand though, going straight in for the hug, laughing as he pulls back, waving me through. "Come on in, let us get you something to drink, it's a real hot one today."

"I'd appreciate it," I reply as I step through, pausing and looking back at the camera for a moment. "District One lemonade is _to die for,_ and this heat just might be too." This earns just a couple chuckles from the production, and I point towards one of them. "At least sound guy thinks I'm funny," I joke, causing the man to crack up, having to hold his mouth to keep his voice out of the broadcast.

I quickly hurry forward to catch up with Justice, trailing behind him just as he walks out into the living room. "And this would be the rest of the family," he gestures. The living room is fairly simple, yet looks rather nice, a neutral beige and tan coloring throughout most of the room. There's two dazzling clean white sofas forming a soft v-shape, a coffee table in between the two and a beige lounge chair at the head of the table. Justice is gesturing to the left sofa, where the family is packed shoulder to shoulder, while Glory's two friends are lounging comfortably on the other couch.

"In order," Justice announces, "there's my wife Harmony," a spot-on image for Glory nods in my direction, a soft smile on her lips. "And her siblings Noble and Modesty." Noble, a seventeen-year-old boy who resembles his father and has a cocky grin plastered on his face, waves to me and even offers a wink, earning an eye roll from me that the camera unfortunately doesn't catch. Modesty, meanwhile, is a thirteen-year-old girl with a fiery look in her eyes, and a slight smile on her lips.

"And I'm Elsie," one of the girls announces proudly, a large grin as she waves excitedly. "And this is Delphina," she gestures towards the other girl, who shyly waves, her eyes sinking downwards.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," I greet, feeling only slightly overwhelmed. While I may not be the best with names, I think I have _most_ of them down. "Glory seems to have quite the supporting cast behind her."

"Thank you," Justice responds brightly, still standing next to the sofa. "I'll go and grab you those drinks I promised, why don't you take a seat," he says, gesturing to the lounge chair.

"Gladly," I reply lightly, smiling as I take a seat. "So," I switch focus, getting the interview underway. "I'm sure that you're all well aware of Glory's popularity in the Capitol, currently sitting in a comfortable second in public polling, and being tied for first in terms of odds. Did you anticipate Glory to make such a splash in the Capitol?"

The question is a softball, and meant to be a good way to get them comfortable talking. It seems to perfectly achieve its intended effect, as Noble is immediately answering the question, not so much as a second thought being given to his answer. "Not so much anticipate as knowing, really," he replies confidently. "District One already turns out the best tributes around, and the Fairfax family is the best of the best, no matter how young."

"So I assume you plan on volunteering next year, since it is your final year of eligibility?"

"Definitely," he responds instantly. "We'll be the first siblings to win back-to-back since Cash and Gloss."

"Love the confidence, and will be looking forward to visiting your lovely home again next year." Glory's mother smiles warmly at the compliment, and I pause for a moment as Justice comes back into the room with a glass of his famous(in that Apollo wouldn't shut up about how amazing it was for months afterwards) blue lemonade. Quietly thanking him, I set the glass on the coffee table and get back into the interview.

"My next question would be a bit more personal. Everyone in the country knows the story of your other child, Concord. We've seen that this loss has hit Glory particularly hard, and have heard quite a few amusing stories about the two of them before his unfortunate passing. After hearing so much about that relationship, I'd love to hear about what _your guys'_ relationship with Glory has been like."

This time it's Glory's friend Elsie to pipe up with an answer. "Us three have been best friends for a while now, ever since. . . kindergarten, I think. Glory has definitely gotten more. . . quiet, I guess, since Concord left. So Delphina and I," she throws an arm around her friend, a shy smile on the girls lips as she softly giggles. "It's been our job to cheer her up. Once you get her to start having fun, she goes right back to normal, and when she's having fun she's _crazy,_ " she giggles madly, Delphina attempting to hold back laughter of her own.

"How so?" I ask with a laugh, leaning forward in interest.

This time it's Delphina's turn to answer. "She'll just go along with any of the ridiculous ideas that Elsie comes up with, that anyone with half of a working brain would know to not follow," she teases, earning a dramatic eye roll from Elsie.

"Brains are overrated," she jokes. "I'd rather just not think about stuff."

"You'll have to tell me some of your stories the next time we meet," I tell her with a laugh. "But for now I'd like to hear from her siblings about what their relationship with Glory was like."

Noble nudges Modesty in the shoulder, and she nods. "Well, neither of us were as close with her as Concord was, I don't think that's even possible honestly. But at the end of the day we're still sisters, and we look out for each other. Family comes before all else," she says with complete confidence, a proud smile from both her parents and a cocky smirk from Noble as he throws his arm over his sister's shoulder.

"That's right," he agrees loudly, Modesty rolling her eyes and brushing his arm off in embarrassment.

"That's a great sentiment to have, and it's no wonder speaking to you all today how Glory managed to charm the entire country, with such a supportive family behind her.

Justice grins proudly at this, slapping a hand down on both of his kids shoulders and whispering something into their ear, the two shyly smiling.

"Just one final question, and one that there's no way I can possibly not ask. I'm sure you guys are in as much awe as the rest of the country is at Glory's partner, Gloria. From their identical appearance, their similar names, and all the way to even coming from such strikingly similar backgrounds, the two have become almost indistinguishable. So my question is quite broad, what are your thoughts on Gloria Martez?"

"The similarity is definitely odd," Glory's mother speaks up for the first time, every word coming out of her mouth seeming painstakingly thought over. "But she seems like a kind enough girl, and the two certainly seem to get along."

"Ya," Noble agrees. "I was definitely worried about her at first, she seemed a bit chummy with Fiona, and seemed to look down on Glory for whatever reason. But with how well their getting along now, the two are an unstoppable combo."

Justice suddenly laughs heartily, shaking his head. "If it wasn't for the age difference, I would've sworn that the two are long lost identical twins. Even putting the looks aside, when you get down to it the two really do have similar personalities, they just took to the adversity they faced in opposite directions. But both of them seem to be evening out from the. . . extreme polar reactions they had, and it's. . . nice to see." He smiles warmly, a glint in his eyes showing a mixture of sadness and pride. "Seeing Glory struggle so hard with losing Concord was tough, and it felt like no matter what I said, there was nothing I could do to help her. It really does warm my heart to see her. . . not get over it, but. . . begin to move on. I'm proud of her," he states, and I believe it fully, his voice genuine.

Smiling back warmly, I climb to my feet. "Thank you all for your time, it was a pleasure meeting each and every one of you, and I look forward to speaking with you again in the future."

A scattering of thanks come from the room, and with a final wave, I turn around and begin walking out, facing the camera directly, the poor cameraman having to balance quickly walking backwards and keeping the picture stable and centered on me. "Well we've met the family of the first of the District One pair, and now we'll be making trek to Custer Avenue to meet our next tribute's supporting cast. For those of you who don't enjoy nature walks, I'll be seeing you in eight minutes, with the friends and family of Gloria Martez. Au revoir!"

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One Citizen**

 **June 8th, 12:20 PM**

 **Siebel Field, District One**

Normally I would consider myself to be a pretty good athlete. In training I'm one of the fastest in my class, and am currently on a twelve-match winning streak for practice spars. I'm relatively coordinated, and even when I do lose, I tend to not look too silly in the process. This girl, though, is on a completely different level.

On any normal afternoon I'd be at training, but with the Final Eight interviews coming to District One, the academies have all shut down for the day. And with Tracey completely ignoring my existence for the past few days for whatever reason, I decided not much harm could come from making the one minute walk to the field. Today was just supposed to be a day to relax, style on a few random kids, learn a new sport, and just have fun. But of course I just so happen to stop by the one day a soccer legend is on the field.

"Come on!" Our goalie yells to our band of misfits that I would hesitate to call a team. "It's six on one, someone stop her!"

The kid, a short, unassuming girl with brown hair, dribbles the ball past the rest of my team with ease, slowing down as she comes up to me. Seeing a chance at the ball I stab out, but she anticipates the move, pulling back and smoothly trading the ball to her other foot and kicking it between my legs, blazing around me by the time I even realize what happened.

"Alright," I sigh, dropping to the ground unceremoniously, not even having to look back to know that she's already scored another goal on us. "So much for, 'soccer is the easiest sport ever,'" I mock the words that one of the girls told me as I was passing by, convincing me to join their game.

"This your first time playing?" I turn around to find the girl standing behind me, hand outstretched. Looking at her from up close, and not from my rear-end as she sprints past me, she's actually kind of pretty. She has light brown hair that messily hangs down to her chest, deep brown eyes, and a shy, reassuring smile.

Gladly taking the help up, I dust off my jeans, shaking my head. "And last," I joke, a slight smile coming from her. "You're pretty good at this, you know."

"Thanks," she replies sheepishly. "But I'm not that good."

"Like hell you aren't," I tell her, hitting her lightly on the shoulder. "You gotta be the fastest kid I've ever seen."

She laughs, shrugging. "If you say so."

In the distance I hear my name being yelled, and I glance over my shoulder and let out a groan as soon as I do. Heading straight towards me, a large posse of enthusiastic citizens behind her, comes Coira Thompson, the final eight interviewer. "I've never even met her in my life!" I shout out towards them, but they don't seem to hear, my name being called again as I'm ushered over. "How do they even remember me," I mutter under my breath, sighing as I turn back to the girl.

"Have fun with that," the girl says amusedly.

"Yeah, I will," I reply slyly, sticking out my fist. "Hailey Hills, by the way."

"Prestige Freeman," she responds, bumping my fist and smiling warmly.

"I'll be seeing you on the tele a few years from now, alright?" I call back as I begin to walk away.

"Sure thing!" She laughs back, turning back to the game as I slog over to the waiting cameras.

They meet me at the edge of the field, Coira flashing a bright smile as she extends a hand. "Coira Thompson," she announces warmly, her voice sweet and lilted, not thick and high-pitched like most Capitolites. It's not as normal sounding as Apollo's was-his accent closer to something you'd expect out of District Two than the Capitol, but it's still an improvement over the squealing, 'posh' accent that the rest of the Capitol all seems to have.

"Hailey," I reply, flashing an awkward smile as I take her handshake.

"Well, Hailey, while we haven't met personally, I don't think it would be possible to forget your touching Final Eight interview two years back."

"Apparently not," I mutter out breathlessly.

"We were just on our way to interview Gloria's family when we spotted you here, and I wanted to know if you could answer a few questions?" She asks in a tone that tells me that no isn't an option.

"Why the hell not, wasn't like I was talking with someone or anything," I breathe out, Coira frowning slightly at the curse. She quickly plasters her wide smile back on, though, continuing with the interview.

"Great. My first question would be this: we all know about your friendship with Gloria's older sister Mercy-" I have to physically bite down on my tongue to avoid blurting something dumb out there, her casual tone quickly ticking me off. "-and we'd love to hear if you have a similar relationship with Gloria."

"Nope," I reply simply, catching Coira off guard with my bluntness. "I mean, I know her, Mercy talked about her all the time, but to be honest. . . I don't even think the girl has any friends," I laugh out, quickly stopping as nobody laughs along with me, staring through me with wide eyes. "I mean-not because she's a loser or anything" I quickly explain. "She's just kind of a. . . psychopath?" I question, thinking on it for a moment, then nodding. "Yeah, psychopath."

"That's certainly interesting to hear," Coira awkwardly jumbles out, scratching the back of her neck. "We all have seen Gloria's rough exterior, and to hear that she completely blocked herself out from her friendships fits with this pretty well." She pauses for a moment, her eyes darting over to the Martez house just a block away. She only lingers on it for a second though, before turning back to me. "One thing that caught my attention though, was that you said that Mercy would talk about Gloria all the time?"

"Ya," I affirm, glancing back to the field as I nod, watching as Prestige flicks the ball over another girls head, loudly laughing as the girl confusedly spins around. "Oh man," I murmur.

"What kind of things would she say?" Coira asks, desperately attempting to steer the conversation back on track.

"Well," I start, racking my thoughts as I turn back to face her. "Mostly just normal big sister stuff. . . or what I'd guess would be normal stuff for a big sister to say. She'd talk about whatever they'd done together, I guess. . . " I trail off, scratching the back of my neck. "I don't really remember, honestly. I was sort of ten when she was my buddy at the academy."

Coira quirks an obviously fake smile at me, giving me a thumbs up. "Well, thank you for your time, Hailey, but for now-" she turns back to the camera. "-let's go check in on the Martez family."

With that the whole crew turns and walks down the street. One of the producers bumps my shoulder as he passes by, and I not-so-discretely flick him off as he walks away. "Asshole," I mutter grumpily, stalking off in the opposite direction, ready to just go home and call it a day already. Taking one last glance back at the group, I shake my head and sigh. "What pricks."

 **Coira Thompson,** **31, Stand-in Hunger Games Interviewer**

 **June 8th, 12:30 PM**

 **100 Custer Avenue, District One**

"Hello everybody, we're back from our short detour catching up with an old friend of Mercy, and now we're on to the Martez families themselves." Taking a step backwards, I motion to the house behind me. The wide, one-story building is painted a creamy white and only has two windows on the entire front stretch of the building. It sits at the corner of a street, a massive yard surrounding the other sides of the home, the only building on the lot.

Once the cameras have had adequate time to film the home, I begin to walk up the stone steps to the wooden door, knocking on the door and stepping back to wait. Just like at Glory's, the door only takes a few seconds to open, though this time the face behind the door is much less affable. A stone-faced man in his mid-40's opens the door, his dark brown eyes bearing into me uncomfortably.

"Mr. Martez, I assume?" I ask politely.

He nods, and steps to the side, ushering me in. "Come in."

The home is dead silent as I step in after him, being lead through their dining room and into a large living room, the whole Martez clan spread out over three sofas, a single cushioned stool set out for me. Marvel silently takes a seat next to his wife Lux, who is equally as stoic as her husband as she sits perfectly still.

The second sofa, directly in front of the stool, is nowhere near as silent, the two twins-Valor and Victor- loudly whispering and hitting each other around while their older sister Honora attempts to hush them. The final couch seats the younger Martez children, the nine-year-old Wonder anxiously tapping his foot as the three-year-old Creddi lies down with a bored look glazed over her eyes.

Normally I wouldn't even attempt to learn all the names of a tribute's family that I'm visiting, but I knew from Apollo's interview with them that they aren't much ones for friendly introductions. A strange family, even for District One's standards-one that makes you wonder how Gloria managed to come out (relatively) normal.

"Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in person, watching Gloria in the games has been a pleasure, and I'm intrigued to get some insight on who Gloria Martez was outside of the games."

"Is there a question?" Lux states immediately, and I have to quickly wipe the shock off my face.

It takes every ounce of willpower to not sigh in defeat as I realize the type of interview I'm about to get myself into. This just might manage to be even worse than the passive-aggressive awkwardness that was that entire conversation with Hailey. I knew it was going to be bad as soon as I realized she had been talking to someone when I interrupted her, but it was too late to back down then and I had to truck through the rest of it. Just like I'll have to fight through this interview.

"Well, we've heard quite a bit from Gloria on how she changed after her sister's unfortunate death in the Ninety-Eight Hunger Games, and so my question would be: what was Gloria like after this change took place?"

The two parents look at their children for an answer, and it quickly becomes apparent the only one of them paying any sort of attention right now is Honora, who, with a heavy eye roll at her bickering twins, turns to me to answer the question.

"Gloria was hit hard by Mercy's death, as you guys all know. For a while she kind of shut down, stopped paying attention at the academy, moped around the house a lot. . . ." she looks like she wants to say something else, biting her lip as she looks over at her parents wearily. Whatever battle is waging inside her, in the end she decides to not speak what was on her mind, hesitantly moving on. "Then after the Victory Tour, she flipped in the opposite direction pretty much instantly. She started to dedicate herself to training harder than anyone else her age, moving from the bottom to the top of her age group in just a few months. She stopped being sad and started getting angry instead. That about sums it up, really."

I nod my head, a bit stunned by the insightful answer, taking just a moment to regain my composure. "That's interesting to hear. It sounds from your description that her reaction to losing Mercy was initially quite similar to Glory's, before her polar reaction she later flipped to." I leave the thought in the air for a moment before continuing to the next question. "So, speaking of your sister's district partner, what are your guys' thoughts on Glory and Gloria's performance thus far in the Games?"

Marvel is the one to answer this time, his voice stern and showing none of the pride of Glory's father in his voice. "Making it to the Final Eight is not an achievement worth bragging about. Any un-skilled dimwit can get to this point on luck alone. Anything less than victory is unacceptable."

Lux nods in agreement. "Gloria's performance has been satisfactory so far, her kill on Fiona was particularly impressive, however her mental state leaves much to be desired. We can only hope she doesn't slip up and let her emotions be the loss of her." She speaks matter-of-factly, as if analyzing a random tribute instead of talking about her daughter. They really need to do something to combat the cultish atmosphere in this district surrounding the Games.

Looking over at Honora, I can see her yet again biting her tongue, clearly wanting to speak out and say something, but a glance at her parents sending her gaze back to the ground. With a sigh, she shrugs her shoulders. "She's done well so far, I'm. . ." she gulps, taking in a deep breath as looks at her parents one more time, but this time looks back at me with a confident look blazing in her eyes. "I'm proud of my sister, no matter what anyone says about her. She'll be home soon, I know it."

Her parents look at her with a disapproving glance, and it takes all my self-restraint to keep the confusion from spreading across my face. Why in the world any parent would frown upon praising their own daughter is beyond me. Maybe I can talk to Jaycen about the atmosphere here when I get back, he is the little brother of the current president after all.

Offering a reassuring smile to Honora, I move to my feet. "Well, it was a pleasure getting to speak with you all. Thank you all so much for your time, and I wish Gloria the best of luck in the games."

"Thank you," Honora replies kindly, quirking a half-smile.

This time I walk to the cameraman's side as I make my way out of the home, head tilted to the left to speak to the audience back home, feeling relieved as I step out the front door and back out into the fresh air. "And with that our District One interviews are officially _finished_! Next up we'll be travelling to District Three, home of the enigmatic Alt Lovelace! For those of you at home keeping track, I'll see you in one hour!"

 **June 8th, 1:45 PM**

 **047 Moffet Avenue, District Three**

Compared to the bright, happy, beautiful streets of District One, the technology district certainly lacks the same charm. The air is filled with smog from the nearby factories, every home is the same dull grey, and there isn't a single bit of color in sight. In contrast, the brightly decorated crew of Capitolites with me stick out like a sore-thumb.

This time, no crowd has gathered to watch our crew, with not even a single person sparing so much as a passing glance at us. Instead, the sparse walking population moves quickly with their head down, looking solemnly serious as they make their way through the streets.

Not wanting to dwell on the depressing scenery, I quickly turn to the Lovelace home, not having to take so much as a step off the street to knock on the door-yards, sidewalks, and driveways not existing in this part of the district.

The second that my fist hits the door, it's being swung open from the other side, and I have to take a step back, momentarily shocked. Standing at the door is Alt's mother, a rather intimidating looking woman in her late forties with dark, short hair in a bob. She has a scorn look on her face, impatience showing as she crosses her arms.

"Allnatt Lovelace?" I ask awkwardly.

In return she nods, opening the door and stepping aside to let me in. Mentally bracing myself for another tense, awkward interview, I take the step in, letting her lead me past the mudroom and into their living room. The room is surprisingly tidy, thought that mostly comes from the lack of items in the home. There's no pictures of children on the walls, or any sort of decorations. Only practical items are in the room, which in the living room consists of two sofas with a table between them. A dining chair has been moved into the room for me, and I graciously take a seat.

Allnatt surprisingly enough doesn't sit next to her husband, instead sitting next to the seventeen-year-old twin sisters that Allnatt quietly introduces to me as Ada and Pascal. Her husband introduces himself next, managing to be even quieter than his wife, his voice barely above a whisper as he introduces Alt's younger brother, a short and chubby ten-year-old boy who is tapping his foot energetically.

"A pleasure to meet all of you," I tell them as they finish their introductions. "As you most likely know, my name is Coira Thompson, and I will be interviewing you today about your daughter Alt, who has made it to the Final Eight of the games. What are all of your thoughts on Alt's performance in the Games?"

"She's done how I would expect her to," Allnatt replies coldly. "Alt is my most intelligent child, If any of my children were to go into the Games, she would certainly be the one with the greatest chances to win them."

My eyes widen at the comment, and I cough into my fist, continually being shocked by the bluntness of these parents. I try to put myself into their shoes, and imagine how I would react if Connie was in the games, but find myself unable to find any reason for the complete lack of attachment these parents seem to have to their kids. Even more unsettling though, is the reaction from her children, or the lack thereof, the three kids seemingly not even hearing the proclamation their mother just made.

Doing my best to move the response into the back of my mind, I move onto the next question, barely holding in a sigh at how much of a train-wreck this is starting to turn into. "Now, there's been quite a bit of controversy surrounding Alt as of late, after her decision to cut out her tracker to rid herself of her district partner, afterwards locking him in the basement and leaving him to die. What are your thoughts on Alt's actions?"

Yet again the matriarch goes to speak first, nobody else seeming anxious to answer any of the questions. "I don't see why there's any qualms. The Games are about doing whatever possible to survive, and she's doing exactly that."

Nodding my head, I scan the rest of the room, hoping to find somebody who's willing to speak up. "Anyone else have an opinion on her actions?"

Nobody bites, or even seems to flinch at the question, and so with an awkward shuffle, I yet again move on. "It sounds like you have a lot of confidence in your daughter."

"I fully anticipate her victory," she monotones unblinkingly.

Hoping to steer this interview into at least some level of emotion, I go for a more personal question. "You seem to care for your daughter quite a bit."

"Well, she always has been my favorite child," she sighs.

This time I visibly flinch at the remark, trying with every fraction of my being to figure out how in the world none of her kids are reacting to her words. The only one showing any sort of response to it is their father, who doesn't look so much upset as he does tired, as if he's used to this sort of thing, and no longer bothers even arguing over it.

"Well," I stand up, wanting badly to get out of this household as quickly as possible. "It was a pleasure speaking to you, I can see very clearly now how Alt turned into the woman she is today." None of them seem to comprehend the hidden insult, all of them keeping that same plain look on their face. Not wanting to even have to be in the vicinity of this dysfunctional family any longer, I turn and begin walking out swiftly, the cameraman barely keeping up as he tiredly backpedals.

"We've seen from Alt's family, but now it's time to dig into her past, as we bring you guys an exclusive interview with the enigmatic Liam Hall, to hope uncover the mysteries of Alt Lovelace's childhood." We're outside now, and I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath, giving a flashy smile and wink to the camera. "Stay tuned."

 **Malcolm Hall, 12, District Three Citizen**

 **June 8th, 2:00 PM**

 **069 De Franco Avenue, District Three**

"Malcolm, get your butt down here, now!"

"Mom, I'm _coming,_ Geez!" Buttoning up the rest of my shirt, dusting off my slacks, I jog out of my room, run through the hallway, and drop myself down on our only sofa, packed against the side by Liam while dad squeezes in on the right side. "This whole thing is so stupid," I mutter.

Mom looks furious at me for the comment, shooting me a glare so sharp that it sends me backing into the cushion of the couch. "Well I'm sorry for trying to make sure this family looks nice for once in its entire existence."

"I think your just jealous," Liam grins cockily.

"Oh ya," I mock, "I'm super jealous of _you._ If only I would've thought of stabbing a girl through her earlobe with a needle. Then _I_ could be famous too!"

"Whatever," Liam waves off. "You're just still emo over spazzing out at the only girl that would ever even think of dating you, at the only party you'll ever be invited to in your entire life."

"I did not spaz out," I shoot back, shoving him in the shoulder.

"Uh, I kind of think shouting at the top of your lungs at someone when they try to give you money counts as spazzing out," he replies, shooting a stupid little smile my way.

"I'll show you spazzing out!" I yell at him, jumping over on him and wildly swinging at him. He throws me back into the side of the couch, and raises his fist before mom's booming voice interrupts us.

"Boys!" She yells, both of us pausing, completely frozen in place. Her eyes are burning in anger, and I can hear Liam gulping as he obediently takes his seat, hands folded over his lap, myself following his example. "You are NOT going to screw this chance up for us, you got it?" She asks, her voice trembling with anger.

Both of us quickly nod, and she smiles back warmly. "Good, now Liam," she turns to my brother. "You are going to be a nice, sweet young gentleman who is head-over-heels in love with Alt, got it?"

"In love with _her_?" He asks, recoiling in disgust. "Ew."

"Got _it_?" Mom repeats, her voice gaining just a hint of anger.

Liam quickly nods in agreement, and now she turns towards me. "And you, mister, will be a sweet, innocent little child who will keep their mouth SHUT, got it?"

Sighing in defeat, I slowly nod my head. Of all days for one of Liam's dumb pranks to backfire, it has to be today. The day I _need_ to be apologizing to Sky for acting like a complete idiot last night. God, just thinking about all the dumb things I did that night makes me cringe! How can I be so stupid?

"Good," she smiles, a knock coming from the door immediately after. Mom looks nervous now, and she takes a deep breath, quickly walking over to the door on the other side of our tiny living room. I can hear the introductions, but can't make out what's being said. They don't last long, though, and soon mom is walking back into the room with a goofily large smile plastered on her lips, the interviewer and her camera crew trailing behind.

"This is my husband, Jon," mom introduces, my dad barely glancing up from his newspaper as he nods towards Coira. "And these are my _lovely_ children Liam and Malcolm." Liam flashes what I assume is supposed to be a charming smile, and I just stare through her, giving an unenthusiastic wave.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all," Coira greets warmly, taking a seat on our only chair, while mom moves to stand behind us. "We've all been dying to hear all about you, Liam. So how about you let us know how exactly it is you know Alt?"

Liam absently nods, that stupid grin still on his lips. "Oh, we go way back. Since we were just kids, really. I transferred to her school, and we became best friends."

"That sounds sweet," Coira coos, and I can't help but roll my eyes at how stupid this woman is for actually believing anything my idiot of a brother is saying. Even if anything he's said so far isn't _technically_ a lie, the dumb attempt at a suave look he's trying to pull off should be enough to make it pretty obvious that he's full of it. "So, was there anything more there than just friendship?" Coira asks with the quirk of an eyebrow.

Liam just about gags, and looks like he's actually holding in his lunch as he weakly nods his head. "Yeah, I mean, I don't, uh, think she feels that way, but, uh, I totally am like, uh, in love with her."

It takes every ounce of willpower to not face-palm at how idiotic my brother really is, even Coira seeming to get the feeling something is off, squinting at him and tilting her head slightly. "It sounds to me like there's something else there you're not telling us," she says, telling him he's bulshitting in the nicest way possible.

Now Liam looks thoroughly nervous, floundering as he anxiously shifts in his seat. Mom seems to sense this, putting her hand on Liam's shoulder and jumping in. "Sorry, my son is just very self-conscious about this sort of thing."

"I understand," Coira smiles back. "If I had to talk about my childhood crush on national television I'd be sweating buckets too." Damn, she really is good at bailing Liam out. She's trying to help him, gotta give her that.

"Yes," mom agrees in a sympathetic voice. "It's especially hard for him, too, ever since she broke his poor little heart."

"What?" Liam yelps, opening his mouth to say more but only letting out a quiet squeal as mom squeezes hard on his shoulder.

"Really?" Coira asks, sounding just a bit tired, clearly starting to realize that his is a total farce.

God, why am I wasting my time sitting her right now? Everyone with half of a brain knows that my brother without one is clearly lying, and the only thing that's going to happen is another minute of mom desperately trying to save our 'image,' probably embarrassing us even more in the mean time. Then Liam will crack under the pressure and tell the truth anyways, probably even bragging about it. And the whole time I'll be sitting her, sulking into my seat, because apparently last night wasn't enough embarrassment for one lifetime.

"Oh, screw it," I mutter, all heads turning to me. Mom shoots me a knowing look, but I ignore her, turning straight to Coira. "Back in elementary school we moved schools, and Liam pretended to be friends with Alt: an awkward, bullied, probably abused little girl two years younger than him that had no other friends. Then once she actually trusted him, he shoved a needle through her ear, tied a wire through it, and super glued it so it was stuck there for a whole week."

The room is frozen in shock, the Capitolites all staring between me and Liam with a look of utter disgust, mom looking ready to strangle me, dad not even looking up from his paper, while Liam just shrugs carelessly. "It was pretty funny though, you have to admit," he laughs, turning between me and Coira, who looks almost as angry as mom does.

"Not really," I shrug, standing up and dusting off my pants. "Well, I'm gonna go to Sky's to apologize, because I can't possibly get any more embarrassed right now, and I'll probably be locked in my room for the next six years anyways, so. . . bye."

With that I walk away, quickening my pace as I feel mom's stares on my back, anxious to get as much distance between us as possible once the cameras go away. Coira is slack-jawed as I brush past her, out the door and onto the street. Now, just a three mile walk to Sky's, five seconds at her place before she slams the door on my face and tells me to never speak to her again, then another three mile walk back home.

So, all things considered, about one hour left before mom murders me. All in all. . . a much better day than I expected.

* * *

 **A/N: Fun fact: All of the addresses are real places, located where the District's are based in my head-canon(see my profile for that crummy map).**

 **I hoped that you all liked this insight into these characters home life, and I'll be seeing you guys with the second part, where we'll see from the D6 and D8 pairs families and friends.**

 **But for now, let me know what you think of this chapter, from the new characters introduced, to the backstory pieces revealed, and just the general reactions to the families.**

 **Also, submissions are still open for No Apologies!**

 **Trivia(1 point): What was your favorite interview?**

 **Trivia(1 point): What character are you most looking forward to the interviews of next chapter?(Zarach, Amara, Noa, Fey)**


	40. Final 8 Interviews 2: House of Memories

**A/N: Here's part 2 of the interviews! Next chapter we're back into the Games! This story is almost finished, and 2 spots have already been locked for the sequel, so make sure to be submitting! But that aside, enjoy this look into the friends and family of our D6 and D8 pairs!**

* * *

 _~Promise me a place_

 _In your house of memories~_

* * *

 **Rain Kaniff, 7, District Six Citizen**

 **June 8th, 4:10 PM**

 **124 Jay Street, District Six**

I will never get used to this walk. With the orphanage on the other side of the river, there's a fifty-minute walk over to Amara's house, and it isn't exactly a very scenic one. Most of it is just through grimy old streets, addicts huddled together in every other alley, beggars flooding the streets. The walk over here is worth it though, and not just for the view of the river.

With one last step I collapse onto the pavement in front of Amara's apartment, taking a moment to catch my breath, and give my aching legs a break. I really should be used to walking this long, considering I do it twice a week, and a walk half the distance to school six times a week. But no matter how much I do it, nothing stops me from collapsing at the end in exhaustion.

I'm not waiting alone long, though, the bottom-level door of the apartment opening up, Amara's parents at the doorway. The two are both really nice, always letting me stay over when I do something that gets me in hot water at the orphanage, or just want a meal that's actually edible. Even with Amara in the games, the two still have warm smiles on their lips as they welcome me, stepping outside with Amara's other friends behind them.

There's Angere and Naya, obviously, but my gaze doesn't stay with them very long, quickly looking nervously down to my feet when Ryan steps out with them, offering me a half-smile. Gosh, that's still got to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. For Amara to tell the whole entire country that I like Ryan, while Ryan is sitting next to me? I just about died.

They all greet me with a hello, except for Ryan, who just sticks his hands in his pockets and nods at me. I shyly wave back, murmuring back a "hi" to the others.

"Well," Amara's dad proclaims, "It's a beautiful day out today, what do you kids say we just do this interview out here?"

"Sounds good," I pant out, giving a thumbs up. "Just wish I wouldn't of wore jeans," I giggle, feeling the heat bear down on me, just a bit of sweat collecting at my forehead.

"You walked all the way here in that?" He questions, raising an eyebrow. After I nod, he brings his hand up to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully. "What do you say I go run inside and grab you a glass of water?"

"I'd appreciate it very much, Mr. Ekkal," I smile at him. He returns the smile, jogging back into the building.

Amara's mom starts chatting with Angere and Naya, leaving Ryan and I awkwardly standing next to each other in silence. He stands still, scratching the back of his neck as he glances down both sides of the street. I begin to whistle, kicking a rock as I stick my thumbs in my pockets, swaying back and forth lightly.

In a minute the awkward moment is up, Amara's father handing me a glass filled to the brim with cool water that I gratefully chug down, letting out a satisfied sigh as I hand him back the cup. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he waves off, setting down the cup on a stack of bricks, taking a seat against the wall. He chats with me for a few minutes, asking about school and the orphanage and how my dad is doing, all the usual small talk, completely ignoring speaking about Amara or the Games.

After a five minute wait outside the apartment, the cartoonish crew of Capitolites turns the street corner, lead by a shortish woman with light brown hair that sits just above her shoulders. She's the only normal looking person of the crew, the rest of the people all having strange colored hair and skin. One of them even has a rainbow pattern to them that fits perfectly with their clothes.

I can't help giving the group an odd look, tilting my head and squinting my eyes in confusion at why anybody would want to look like that. Do they think it makes them look pretty, or were they just born that way?

There's not much more time to think on it, as the group reaches us, the brown-haired girl smiling warmly as she waves at us. "Hello, everyone, I assume that you two must be Mr. and Mrs. Ekkal?" She asks, motioning towards Amara's parents.

They both nod, and Amara's dad shakes the woman's hand. "Pleasure to meet you," he greets warmly.

"The pleasure is all mine. My name is Coira Thompson, and I'll be interviewing you all today about Amara, who has recently reached the Final Seven in the Games. Could I get your guys' names?" She asks, smiling towards us all reassuringly.

"I'm Angere!" The excitable girl exclaims proudly. "And this is Naya," she pats her friend on the shoulder, Naya smiling at Angere happily.

"Ryan," he simply announces, nodding his head upwards.

"I'm Rain," I drawl, my accent coming out strongly. Usually I'm able to get rid of my accent, but whenever I get nervous the southern-district accent always comes back. Better then getting all jittery and stammering out my words, I guess.

Coira smirks smugly, glancing between Ryan and me, raising an eyebrow. Ryan just laughs it off, but my cheeks flush red as I put up an unconvincing smile. I'm NEVER going to live this down, am I? Darn it Amara.

"Well, why don't we start off with how all of you know Amara?" Coira asks.

"Well," Mr. Ekkal chuckles, wrapping an arm around his wife. "Obviously my wife and I are Amara's parents."

Mrs. Ekkal smiles warmly, nodding. "Amara was a blessing, and the best surprise of my life." Her smile drops, as does her gaze, as her eyes water up. "I don't know what I would do without her."

"Naya and I have been best friends with her since preschool!" Angere loudly proclaims, never one to speak softly, regardless of the situation. Mrs. Ekkal doesn't seem to mind, though, laughing at the words as she wipes her eyes, her husband rubbing her back as he holds her close to his chest.

"Kindergarten for me," Ryan states in that same suave voice.

"I just met her a year ago," I drawl out thickly. "I just moved got transferred over here, but me And Amara became friends right away, she's real sweet."

"It sounds like Amara is quite the popular child," Coira smiles. "And from what I've seen and heard from her, it really is no question why, with her making friends easily even in the Games. Any thoughts on these new friends that Amara's been making?"

Angere, Rain, and Naya all exchange glances, none of them being aloud to watch the Games. Technically, I'm not aloud to watch them either, but dad isn't really in much position to be making sure that I don't, and I'll be darned if I don't see how my friend is doing.

"Well," Amara's dad starts, smiling warmly. "Amara always has been quick to make friends, no matter the situation you put her in. It's no surprise to see her finding a group in the Games, and Zarach seems like a really nice boy, and I'd love to get to meet-and thank- him in person when they come home."

"Her friends seemed all really nice," I add, Coira looking surprised at me answering, but allowing me to go on. "I could tell she really likes all of them too. . ." I scratch the back of my neck, looking down to my feet. "It's too bad about Armie, he seemed really nice, and Amara really seemed to like him." There's a solemn silence for a moment, then I shrug and look back up to Coira. "I can't wait to meet Zarach, though! And I'll have to get some payback on Amara," I hint, Coira softly giggling as she shakes her head.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something adequately embarrassing," she laughs. "So, Amara seems like the type of kid to get into all kinds of crazy situations, and do all sorts of silly stuff. So. . ." Coira thinks for a moment, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. "How about each of you tell us one funny thing about Amara-a ridiculous story, a thing you do for fun, or just a fun fact."

Amara's mom laughs suddenly, shaking her head at some memory. "Amara," her eyes go foggy, staring off into the distance, a slight smile on her lips. "She would always try to run around the district barefoot. I remember every time she would come back with muddy, scratchy feet, and I would scold her and tell her to wear her shoes for once, and it always this big deal, her sneaking off just to avoid wearing shoes." Her and Mr. Ekkal both start laughing, her husband shaking his head nostalgically.

"She always did silly stuff like that, she really is just such a carefree kid. But, despite that she was always so kind, so respectful, so eager to learn. . . I couldn't ever ask for a better daughter." He has a proud glint in his eyes, and his wife looks on the verge of tears, taking deep breaths as Mr. Ekkal hugs her tightly.

"She sounds like a wonderful little girl," Coira says, with a sort of sad happiness in her voice.

"Yeah, she is," Mr. Ekkal replies. "I don't know what I would do without her."

"Well," Coira says sadly, offering a reassuring smile. "I certainly hope you don't have to find out. Thank you so much for this interview, and I wish your daughter the best of luck in the Games."

With that, Coira turns on her heels and walks away, talking animatedly to the camera, the crew rounding the corner and out of sight in just a few moments, the Capitolites loud voices slowly fading away, leaving us in a thick silence. Amara's mom is silently sobbing now, her head bobbing up and down into her husbands shoulder, and there's a sick feeling in my gut as I watch.

Amara has made it this far, she can make it the rest of the way. She has to.

 **Coira Thompson,** **31, Stand-in Hunger Games Interviewer**

 **June 8th, 4:45 PM**

 **Sector 8 Orphanage, District Six**

These interviews have been horrible. I thought that the absolute train wrecks that were Gloria and Alt's interviews were bad, but Amara's was worse. So much worse. The look in her parents eyes when they said that they couldn't live without her. . . it cut deep. Now the image of myself in their shoes won't go away, the mere thought of having to watch Connie go into the Games making me sick. That interview was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted one to brighten my moods, but instead it's left me with a dizzying ache in my head.

And the next interview doesn't look to be letting up on the pain. Tracking down Zarach Eleazar's family wasn't easy, but after we managed to find out the home he came from, it was no surprise that he ran away.

The police reports were brutal. Parents that had a history of petty misdemeanors and a reputation as alcoholic deadbeats, and two young children-one of which being mentally challenged. There was already abuse going on in that household, no doubt being the reason Zarach ran away-but it only got worse once he left.

Two months after Zarach was reported missing, both of the Eleazar children stopped coming to school. After two days with no word from the parents or children, a worried teacher who knew of the abusive nature of the home decided to visit the home to investigate. When he entered the apartment, the scene he found was a gruesome one.

The father, Jensen Eleazar, got drunk. Very drunk. According to the shaky report of a very terrified ten-year-old girl, he got into a particularly heated argument with his wife over their children, apparently nothing out of the ordinary. This time, though, Jensen had seemingly had enough, and after storming off into the night, came back half an hour later with a butcher knife from work.

Zarach's mother was found with seven stab wounds to the chest and gut, their mentally challenged son-just nine years old- was stabbed twice in the head. Lorenna, Zarach's little sister, was lucky to survive. She got stabbed in the thigh, and was only able to survive by pretending to be dead, hiding beneath her little brother's bloodied, lifeless corpse.

She went into shock, and stayed frozen in that room, nearly bleeding to death over the next two days. The paramedics were able to just barely save her life, but were unable to do anything about the emotional damage done to her.

Jensen was found three days later, washed up onto a nearby beach, his death presumed suicide.

I felt queasy just reading the case file, and now the thought of interviewing this girl-who's life has already been completely torn to pieces. . . this isn't going to be easy.

The orphanage is the same one that Rain apparently lives in, and has a reputation as being one of the best in the District, so at least that piece of information will make this slightly easier. The building still reeks of sadness, though, the dull brick walls and windowless design making it look almost like a prison. With how orphanages apparently run in the districts, there's a chance that prison isn't far off from the reality of the place, either.

Collecting myself, emotionally preparing myself for the interview, I turn around to the camera as I reach the front steps, flashing an excited smile. All of the information on what happened to Zarach's family has been already been released to the public, so I luckily don't have to go through that story, and am able to focus on the task at hand.

"Welcome, everybody, to our next stop in the transportation District. We're here to interview Zarach's long lost sister Lorenna, and hopefully uncover some of the mysterious of Zarach's past."

I knock on the door three times, stepping back to wait for the door to open. There's nearly a minute wait before somebody flings the door open, an old woman squinting at me wearily. "Yes?" She asks expectantly in a lilted voice.

"Coira Thompson," I greet, extending a handshake that she hesitantly takes. "We're here to interview one of the girls at your orphanage."

It takes another minute of explaining the situation to the woman, but she finally allows us in, leading us in the direction of Lorenna before heading off to deal with something else.

Lorenna is a short, thirteen-year-old girl with dark hair that drapes down her back, doe-eyed as she watches a grainy television with a few younger children from a beat-up sofa. Surprisingly enough she looks almost happy, softly laughing with one of the other girls. Feeling just a little bit guilty about breaking up the scene, I call out her name, waving to her and nodding as she turns around.

She looks thoroughly confused, and I feel a bite of nervousness as she hesitantly walks over to me, seemingly unsure of why she's being called over by a crew of Capitolites. "Lorenna, my name is Coira Thompson," I greet warmly, offering up a handshake that she weakly takes after a moment of thought.

"The Final Eight interviewer?" She asks, still looking bemused.

"The very same," I confirm.

She glances to both sides of her, and then shoots a puzzled look back at her friends, shrugging as they all watch her with an equal level of confusion. "So. . . why are you interviewing me?"

My stomach drops, and my shoulders droop. As if this interview couldn't possibly get any worse, the girl doesn't even know that her brother is in the Games. Although, I suppose the simple fact that he's even alive could be good news for her. Only one way to find out.

"Lorenna," I start in my gentlest voice, her shifting uncomfortably, clearly sensing that I'm about to drop something big on her. "Do you remember your brother, Zarach?"

Her eyes widen at the mention of the name, then widen even further a moment later as the realization of what I'm saying hits her. "No. . ." she trails off, her legs wobbly as she drops unceremoniously into a chair, her whole body now jittering as she furiously shakes her head. "Zarach is. . . ."

"He was reaped for the Games," I confirm, nodding my head. "He's also done quite well, having now made the Top Seven in the Games, being currently tied for first in odds to win."

Lorenna doesn't seem to hear the words, hands covering her eyes as she leans into the table, her breath fast and heavy. She looks up at me for just a moment, her eyes dry but shining clearly with a mixture of fear and surprise. "So. . . he's still alive," she chokes out breathlessly, a half-smile forming on her lips before quickly disappearing.

"Yes, him and his ally Amara Ekkal are currently doing very well in the Games, and are crowd favorites. Your brother is a very popular man," I smile warmly, her returning a clearly forced smile for just a second, before looking down at her hands.

"I-" she cuts herself off, shaking her head furiously, letting in a choked breath. "I don't even know what to say," she sighs breathlessly. "I-I thought he was dead, but instead. . . ." she trails off, in disbelief as she stares up at the ceiling.

"I know it's quite a lot to take in," I reassure her.

"Ya," she murmurs, shutting her eyes and letting in a deep breath. "I-I know you probably want me to answer questions and all-" she takes in a deep breath, her eyes still firmly closed. "But I can't. . . I can't talk about any of that." She opens her eyes, shamefully averting her gaze to the ground as she squirms in her seat. "It still hurts too much."

"I understand perfectly well," I tell her, offering a kind smile as I begin to turn back to the camera.

"Wait!" She blurts on, her eyes shining with panic. "Can-" she's shaking in her seat now, closing her eyes again and taking in a deep breath, murmuring a few words to herself before opening her eyes again, now looking much more calm. "Can I give him a message, there-there's something I need to tell him."

"While I can't, his mentor could, and I'm sure he's listening right now if you want to deliver it to him now," I explain calmly, her nodding in understanding.

"Alright," she shakily chokes out, staring into the camera dead-on, a blazing focus in her eyes overtaking the shudders running through her body. "Zarach, the past three years without you have been horrible. . . the day you left me alone with. . . them. . . was the worst day of my life." She lets in a deep breath, closing her eyes, looking as if she's rehearsed this speech for years.

"You left me behind in hell," her voice comes out hurt, shaking in pain as she averts her gaze to the ground. "And. . . I can only think of three words to tell you. . . ."

 **June 8th, 5:15 PM**

 **18420 Martha Street, District Eight**

Okay, only two more interviews, and this whole thing is done. The train ride to District Eight was short, not giving me much time to ponder on the day, and instead allowing me to stay focused on the final interviews ahead. Noa is a bit of a question mark, with the full extent of her schizophrenia being revealed to a possibly unsuspecting family. Fey, on the other hand, will be a much safer conclusion, with nothing groundbreaking likely to come from her interview.

So because of that we're starting out with Noa, a household full of females. The apartment they live in is thankfully on the first floor, and with the wooden door to my back, I turn to face the camera.

"Hello everybody, and welcome to District Eight! We're here to interview the family of Noa Jacquard! So let's not waste anymore time, and go meet the household!" With that introduction, I rap on the door, and stand back to wait. It takes just a few moments for someone to open the door, a kindly old woman in her late sixties opening the door with a warm smile.

"You must be here for the interviews," She greets in a sweet voice.

"Coira Thompson," I announce, the two of us shaking hands before she welcomes me in.

"I'm Satine, Noa's grandmother," she says as we walk into the dining room, where the rest of the family is seated around a table, apparently in the middle of dinner.

"Sorry to interrupt your meal," I apologize. "But would you mind if I ask all of you a few questions about your family member, Noa?"

"Of course, ask away," a woman in her mid forties says, waving to me. "I'm Cashie by the way, Noa's mother. Her father is working right now, I'm afraid."

"And I would be her aunt, Nylo," another woman quietly introduces herself.

This leaves just two girls in their early twenties to be introduced, and he older of the pair speaks up first, waving in my direction. "Linn. Sister."

"Kaya," the younger of the pair pipes up with a smile. "Also sister."

"Pleasure to meet the family," I reply, taking a seat in an empty seat at the head of the table. "To jump right into the questions, I think the question everyone is dying to have answered is Noa's schizophrenia. What can you tell us about it? Were you aware she had this condition?"

All eyes immediately go to the aunt, who sighs, shaking her head. "I always knew there was something wrong with her in the head, but I'm no doctor, so I never knew the name for it or anything. She was always so paranoid and rigid in her schedule, but I had no idea that she had hallucinations. . . ."

"Yeah," Kaya agrees with a nod. "I mean, sure she was a bit strange, but she was still normal enough. Went to school, hung out with her friends, I had no idea that there was so much wrong with her head."

"Well," I offer up, "despite her condition, Noa has done quite well for herself in the games. What are your thoughts on Noa's performance so far in the games, and what do you expect from her going forward?"

"Noa has done amazing," her mother boasts proudly. "She's such a bright child, and she's using that to her advantage. I just hope she can continue to outsmart the opponents to find her way back home. There's so much I need to still tell her."

"She's a smart kid," Satine says gently. "I'm sure that she'll manage to use that to get herself out of the Games. Her and that Fey girl make a fantastic team."

"Speaking of Fey," I transition. "We've seen her and Noa begin to get along quite well in the arena, despite it seeming during the pre-games that Fey would be allying with the District Six alliance. Do you have any thoughts on Fey and Noa's relationship?"

"It's sweet," Kaya fawns. "But also kind of odd. She never really seemed to like kids much before. She'd always just kind of ignore them, stay away from them. Not that she hated them or anything, she was just awkward around them. Don't know what it is that's special about Fey."

"She's a nice kid," Linn speaks up for the first time. "And a mature one. She's been helping Noa out, just like Noa's been helping her. They're both a team, because both of them need the other."

"They both lean on each other," Satine nods, a warm smile on her lips. "Just like a family."

"And your family seems to be one that helps its own," I compliment with a smile. "So what sort of role did Noa have in the family? Was she a joker? The quiet helper type?"

"She certainly loves to talk," her mom laughs. "Noa just loves to be in the company of others. She'll help me out with chores just to spend time with me."

"She never discriminates with who she talks to," Kaya jokes, shaking her head nostalgically. "She was close with all of us, really. She's a peoples-person, can't stand being by herself. Guess that might be part of the reason her and Fey have become so close, she needs somebody to be able to talk with, it's just who she is."

"So, aside from talking with you guys, what did Noa tend to do for fun?" I question, beginning to relax now that I'm finally getting back into a normal interview.

"I know she played a ton of soccer with her friends," Kaya answers. "Pretty terrible at it too," she laughs. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"You can tell her that I said it," Linn chuckles, shaking her head. "I've played about two games my whole life, and even I'm better than her. She just doesn't have that foot to eye coordination."

"Well," I laugh. "I guess that just goes to show how much fun she has playing it then, for her to keep on at it."

"She was always like that," her mom sighs. "Never gave up at something just because she wasn't good at it. When she was a young child she was far behind in her classes, and so ever since she's spent so much time reading and studying in order to catch up with where her peers are. She may not be a super genius, but she works so hard to get where she is, and I think that's much more impressive than just having your intelligence handed to you."

"She certainly seems like a strong, hard-working woman, and it's no wonder that she's turned into one with this family to support her."

"Thank you," Satine smiles graciously. "That means a lot."

"With such a family orientated household, I would just have one more question for you all. If Noa does come back, how do you think things would change in your family?"

"Well," Satine starts, stroking her chin in thought. "I certainly hope that not much would change. Sure, we'd have a bigger house, nicer things, better food, but in the end all that really matters is family, and more than any material thing, I just want to have my granddaughter back."

"We all want her back," her mom sadly smiles.

Offering a reassuring smile, I nod at them. "And I wish you the best of luck in having that wish come true. Thank you all for your time, it was a pleasure meeting all of you."

They all quietly return the thanks, and after a final goodbye, I turn around and begin walking out of the house. "Next up," I say to the camera. "We're staying in the district for our final interview, with the young Felicity Cardin. Stay tuned, because we will be right back!"

 **June 8th, 5:40 PM**

 **14025 West 8th Avenue, District Eight**

Just one more interview. Noa's was a much needed break from the stress and worry of the others, and now we'll just have to see if Fey's can continue the trend. The young girl lives in the poorer part of the district, where the economy is based on booths that tightly pack the streets. Getting to her home was like dodging through a minefield, all the desperate vendors attempting to sell their wares to whoever can afford it.

But we managed to get through without any of the crew getting lost, and now we're here at the final home of the Final Eight Interviews. The house is a tiny, square shaped building that goes up two-stories, and has a small backyard. The wood is painted a yellow that I imagine was once bright, but is now faded and chipped. Much like District Three, the homes are all packed against each other, no front yard or sidewalk, just the street leading right up to the front door.

With a deep breath, I turn to the camera with an excited grin. "This is it, folks! We're here for our final interview, with Felicity Cardin of District Eight! So, without further ado, let's finish this off!"

Turning away, I go to knock on the door, only for it to open before I get the chance. Most likely they heard my voice, I can get to be a little loud when I get excitable. A woman in her mid-thirties opens the door, with fair skin, dirty blonde hair, and freckles dotting her face. She's obviously Fey's mother, but the woman looks nothing like her daughter, not a single similarity visible.

Nonetheless, I smile warmly at the woman, and extend my arm for a handshake. "You must be Fey's mother?"

"Carmen," she replies kindly, taking the handshake and giving what's clearly a forced smile back at me. "Please," she says, turning around. "Come in."

"Gladly," I casually reply, stepping in after her. The inside of the home doesn't look any bigger than it did on the outside, no hallways even existing, just a half-wall splitting the floor in half. On the left side is the kitchen, and on the right is a living room, where there's a small, grainy television and beat down green sofa. Seated on the couch is a boy who looks to be in his early-twenties, as well as two younger girls.

Carmen goes and stands behind the sofa-no room left for her to sit. There's no chair for me either, and I confidently stand tall in front of them, keeping a smile firmly on my lips. "Pleasure to meet all of you, I'm Coira Thompson, and I'm here to interview you all on your sister, daughter, and friend Felicity."

"I'm Charm," the younger of the two girls shyly says. The girl is practically a spot on copy of Fey, though is clearly a couple of years younger.

"I'm her friend, Zilly," the older girl waves, twiddling her thumbs as she avoids eye contact.

"And I would assume the young man would be Fey's older brother?" I ask, after a near-awkward moment of silence.

The boy nods solemnly, looking more like his mother and less like his sister, with light skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. "Yeah," he mutters bitterly, his eyes burning with anger as he glares me down.

Ah, I guess it was too much to ask for to not have at least one person who thinks that this is all my fault somehow, and takes the anger out on me. Dad usually averaged two or three families like that. Heck, back six years ago the father of one of District Eight female even tried to attack him. In his defense, his twelve-year-old daughter was being slowly tortured on television as the interview was going on, but attacking Apollo didn't exactly accomplish much for him. Unless you count getting shot by a security officer before you get even one hit in as a success.

"So, why don't you all tell me about Fey," I toss out, deciding to avoid talking about the Games if possible. I'd rather not end my interviews with one my bodyguards killing a boy.

"She's just a bundle of joy," Carmen sighs, her eyes going foggy as she seems to forget I'm even in the room. "She's always sweet, generous, selfless, thinking of others before herself. She'll sit with me at my stall when she's not at school, and she'll run around and collect any spare beads and strings that she can find. . . she was even making me a bracelet, all by herself, before. . . ." she trails off, looking down to the ground, softly rubbing the mismatched collection of beads around her wrist that I assume was made by Fey.

"She sounds like a wonderful child," I say carefully.

"Yeah," her older brother spits out, continuing to stare daggers at me. "She was," he mutters out hurtfully, clenching his fists as he leans back into the sofa. There's a moments pause, and I go to ask my next question, but he speaks up just before I get the chance to. "She's too young for this," he chokes out, a hint of sadness seeping in past his anger. "She's an oblivious little girl, who would go hungry because she gave up some of her own dinner, just to go sneak off and feed a stray cat. She doesn't deserve this," he mutters, shaking now in a combination of rage and sorrow. "Nobody does," he adds on after a moment, in just above a whisper.

The room falls dead silent, and the cogs in my brain are turning, attempting to think of some way to spin his rant into something positive, but the damage has already been done. The words are out, and he clearly meant them. There's nothing more I can do to stop that.

The boy doesn't even seem to understand what he just said, continuing to bitterly look down at his feet. His mother does, though, looking at her son with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing as nothing comes out.

"Well," I awkwardly start after a minute of thick silence. I try to think of any other questions to ask, but every single one seems to lead back to the same likely conclusion, and I decide the only real option at this point is to just end it. "It's been a pleasure meeting all of you," I plaster a smile onto my lips, attempting to at least diffuse the situation a little bit, though only the oblivious Charm returns the smile, flashing a wide grin.

With that, I turn on my heel and begin walking away, doing everything in my power to not sigh in relief as soon as I step out the home. Once we're safely outside, I allow myself to calm down, no longer in the tense, confined house, and instead out in nature-or, outdoors at least, I don't think there's so much as a tree or blade of grass in sight to call 'nature.'

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," I announce to the camera, throwing my hands up in the air. "That concludes our Final Eight coverage of the One-Hundredth Hunger Games! We hope you enjoyed this behind the scenes insight into these tributes lives! To both or friends in the Capitol and the twelve districts, we wish you all a happy Hunger Games, and as always, may the odds. . . be ever in your favor."

 **Audra Lee, 15, District Five Mentor**

 **June 8th, 8:45 PM**

 **Lawrence Street, The Capitol**

The streets are near empty, caught in that awkward time between day and night. It's late enough that the workers and children are already away and back home, yet still early enough that the night-life has not fully began yet. The sun has set, yet there's still a bit of light left in the sky, combined with the dim lights of flashing blue and yellow neon.

On the other side of the street, a group of five men stumble down the street, loudly talking and cheering, nearly falling down with every step as one of them thrusts a bottle of beer in the air. On our side a young man in a slick brown suit-coat swiftly brushes past us, eyes dead ahead as he pays no mind to his suitcase bumping into my knee-cap.

A few cars slowly roll down the street, a dog's tongue sticking out its mouth and waving against the wind as he pokes his head out the window. Every few feet there's a new shop to enter, a fresh blinking sign of every possible color attempting to draw attention from the passing by pedestrians. A few people even stand at their doorway, giving their sales pitch, drawing in everyone and anyone to buy their product. One such man grabs me by the shoulder as I pass by, and I shrug his grip off, blocking out his empty words as I continue forward, pulling the hood on my jacket halfway down my eyes as I truck forward, eyes to the pavement.

A cold breeze brushes against me, and I fold over my unzipped jacket, shivering as the wind easily breaks past the thin coat, sending prickles down my skin. My eyes glance up for just a moment as we turn around a corner, and I spot a tall, looming building in the distance, the only piece of land not coated in some sort of bright, sad attempt at color.

"Is that it?" I ask, teeth chattering as I look up at him hopefully.

The man pulls down on his scarf, stretching it out as he squints out in the distance. "Yeah, that's it."

"Then let's go." My feet are moving as soon as the words are out of my mouth, shrugging past him and continuing forward. I count the cracks in the sidewalk as I go, attempting to give myself a distraction. Anything to avoid thinking about where I'm going, about what I'm going to do.

So instead I count the cracks. And anytime my mind begins to wander, I focus on that number. Six. Fourteen. Twenty-three. Forty-five. My steps are getting longer with every passing second, quickening my pace as I rush forwards. Just keep on moving forward, keep on counting the cracks. Empty my mind of everything.

"Wait up," the man grunts, his footsteps rushing up behind me, his boots clapping against the cement as he jogs next to me. "I'm not exactly in much position to run," he pants, pointing towards his gut.

"Sorry," I mutter back, slowing to a quick walk, switching my attention from the ground. Instead I look up, my eyes peeking up from below my hood, scanning the streets. Now I'm reading the signs, all the different storefronts and advertisements. There's a sinking feeling in my gut as I realize what part of the Capitol we're in, my eyes quickly going back to the ground to avoid looking at that any longer.

"Red Light District, bud," he warns with a sigh. "I'd keep your head down if I were you."

"I noticed," I murmur back, lightly shaking my head. "Interesting choice of location."

"It's inconspicuous," he explains automatically.

Looking up at the towering, brick building, surrounded on all sides by blinding flashes of neon lights, I roll my eyes. "Is it?"

"It was," he grunts, seeming to want to say more, but instead leaving it at just that.

We fall back into silence, the only sound being the raunchy blend of music escaping from the establishments as we pass them by, and the soft pattering of rain that begins to slowly fall down. The water drops against my hood, sliding down the front and steadily dripping down. Another shiver runs through my body as I tightly pull against the jacket, crossing my arms through my sleeves, gripping my elbows with my slippery hands, drenched in both water and sweat.

"Here," the man says warmly, reaching over towards me. I instinctively flinch back, and he reaches back too, holding up his scarf and smiling reassuringly. "You looked cold."

"Yeah," I murmur, shrugging my shoulders as I turn away from him, the man gently folding the scarf over my shoulders, each side draping down to my stomach. It does nothing to help the cold, but feels nice still, the fabric blowing gently back against my face with the wind, a quiet giggle escaping from me as I spit a piece of fur out my mouth.

But the moment of laughter is exactly that, and the smile soon drops from my lips, head bowed as I truck forward. With no distractions to block my thoughts, they begin to flood in all at once. Above everything else, though, sits the raw fear of the future. Of heading back home. Having to face my dad and brothers, after they'll know. Walking through the streets, the entire country knowing exactly what I've done. . . what they made me do.

There's a hand on my back, and I jump forward, turning back with ragged breath. "You okay?" He asks gently, looking genuinely worried as he glances at me.

"Yeah," I reply breathlessly, pulling my arms out of my sleeves and shrugging as I tug on my jacket. "I'm fine."

"Alright," he says, looking thoroughly unconvinced, but thankfully deciding not to push it. "Well, we're here," he announces, motioning forward to the tall building, the tall metal doors now just a few yards in front of us.

"Oh," is all I can manage to get out, biting down on my cheek as my foot begins to jitter.

"Are you ready for this?" He asks, raising an eyebrow as he stops just in front of the doors.

My mind wanders again to my family, and I swallow a lump in my throat, taking in deep breaths. It takes all my will-power to not just turn and run, because the answer to that question really is no. I'm not ready for this. I'll never be ready for this. But with every ounce of my being I force myself to remain locked in place. They did this to me, and they. . . they can't get away with it. I won't let them.

With one last breath, I pull down my hood, not minding the buckets of rain drenching my hair, pattering against my face and trailing down my cheeks. "Yeah," I shakily force out, feebly nodding my head. I bite down on my cheek until I can feel blood trickling out, the jitter in my voice gone, a wave of determination setting over me. "Let's make the bastard pay."

* * *

 **A/N: Just a few more chapters left in this story! Let me know what you guys think, make sure to submit to No Apologies if you haven't already, and also vote on the poll on my profile! Also, terrible cliffhanger in Zarach's interview is terrible, but don't worry, you won't have to wait long to see what that was about.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite interview this chapter?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Measures:** Alt  
 _2 Knives, Dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floor 13

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory  
 _Katana, 3 Knives, 2 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, dog, Moderate supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floors 18

 **Our Keepers:** Zarach, Amara  
 _Revolver, 2 Bullets_ _  
_Location: Floor 19

 **Real or Not Real?:** Noa, Fey  
 _Bow  
_ Location: Floor 21


	41. Day 9: This is Gospel

**A/N: For clarification, tributes do not see the Final Eight Interviews, they were just locked into their rooms and forced to chill for a day. Also, I've recovering from a nasty wisdom teeth surgery while writing this, so hopefully it turned out good enough despite that.**

* * *

 _~Cause I wont give up without a fight_

 _If you love me let me go,_ _if you love me let me go_

 _Cause these words are knives that often leave scars, the fear of falling apart_

 _And truth be told I never was yours, the fear, the fear of falling apart~_

* * *

 **Zarach Eleazar, 18, District Six**

 **Day 9, 7:00 AM**

 **Floor 19**

I'm a failure, plain and simple. I've always been a failure, and always will be. It's my fault that Armie is dead, just like it's my fault that Lorenna is still stuck in that hellhole of a home. Even if I do manage to bring Amara and I home, how am I going to face her? After I just abandoned her for three years, what can I possibly tell her? How could she feel anything but hatred for me?

Even before I ran away, I was never there for her. I was a big kid, and so by the time I was twelve, mom and dad were too intimidated by me to try to beat me. So instead they took their anger out on Lorenna. And what did I do to protect her? Did I ever step in, put my foot down, and stick my neck out for her? No, because I was too scared. I was too much of a selfish coward, just like I still am.

Every time I look at Amara, my heart breaks in half. She's trying so hard to be strong, so god damn hard. Every time tears start to well up in her eyes, she fights them away, putting on a brave face. Every time she begins to sob, she tries cracking some dumb joke, disguising it with laughter. But no matter how much she tries to pretend, Armie's death broke her. She's not the same girl she was before, and she never will be.

All because of me. I should have been there to protect Armie, that mutt should have never gotten the chance, and Amara should have never had to see that. For her friend to die in her arms, blood soaking through his shirt, while tears stream down his cheeks. . . .

It takes everything in me to not just scream, punch my hand straight through the wall, curse out every goddamn piece of shit that forced them into this arena. The person who came up with this shitty twist, the person who sent that mutt after Armie, just about single fucking person in the entire Capitol. If Amara wasn't curled up into a ball next to me, finally drifting off to sleep, I would do it, too.

I don't give a damn if they would make sure that I don't win, because if I'm being perfectly honest with myself I'm not even sure if I want to win these Games anymore. If it weren't for Amara I don't even know if I could convince myself to keep on trying.

But she still needs me. And if there's one thing that I know, it's that I will _never_ abandon somebody that needs me. Not again. Not after I've let my fear get the best of me so many times before. No matter what it takes to send Amara home, I'm going to do it. I'm not living with any more regrets.

There's the all familiar sound of a sponsor gift, the beeping slowly increasing in volume as it approaches the window. By the time it slides through and onto the floor, I'm there to collect it, silently unwrapping the small box, careful to not wake up Amara.

Inside the box is nothing but a single slip of white paper. My heart skips a beat as I tentatively reach out, gripping it between my fingers. The note is obviously meant for me, but what could it possibly say? Who would have anything to tell me? Unless. . . .

My heart stops, the paper slipping from my fingers and floating to the ground. The Final Eight Interviews were yesterday. They tracked down my family, Lorenna included, and asked them about me. . . just a minute ago I was dying to know what Lorenna thought of me, and now. . . the answer is right here. It can't be anything else, it has to be her.

There's a shake in my hand as I hesitatingly reach out for the paper, flipping it over to avoid sneaking a peak at the note. With a deep breath, I pull it up to in front of my eyes, and mentally brace myself for the worst. She's going to say that she hates me, that I'm a terrible person, that everything that happened is all my fault. That she hopes that I die here in the arena.

With all of those thoughts spinning around in my head, I begin to feel dizzy, and taking in one last breath, I flip the note, the three words right in front of my eyes.

 _I forgive you_

 _-L.E._

I'm locked in place, all the thoughts in my mind halting to a stop, those three words running through my head. It's like I see the words, but I can't understand what they even mean. Out of all the things I had prepared myself to see written down. . . I never let myself think. . . .

The paper crumples in my fist, and I slip it it into my pocket, wiping a silent tear from my eye, a shaky breath rising from my gut. The whole world feels like it's spinning, and for a moment I think that I must be dreaming, that this can't possibly be real. How? How could she possibly even forgive me. . . it has to be a mistake, a lie, there's no way. After what I did to her, she can't forgive me. I don't _deserve_ to be forgiven. I should be forced to beg and plead on my knees to her, for her to even feel an ounce of anything other then bitterness, and now here she is, just flat out telling me that she forgives me?

Me eyes drift over to Amara, and linger on her for a moment, my breath ragged as my fingers trace the note in my pocket. A million thoughts are racing through my mind, all trying to make some sense, _any_ sense of what I just read.

My thoughts drift over to that first day in training, when I finally let myself begin to care about Amara, to tell myself that I could get her home, that for once in my life I could do the right thing. Those three words that I told myself, that I promised to do.

No more regrets. And maybe, just maybe, for once in my life, I can keep my promise.

 **Alt Lovelace, 14, District Three**

 **Day 9, 8:45 AM**

 **Floor 17**

After a day of being locked into a useless room, they finally let us out this morning. In the forty-five minutes since, I've managed to make my way up to the seventeenth floor, where I'll be staying for now. There's three floors above me, and three alliances left. Just let them brawl it out and clean up the scraps, that's been the winning strategy the whole time.

The break yesterday was pointless, and worse, dwindled my already low supplies. It took me a full day of scavenging to find those supplies, and then the Capitol makes me waste half of it because of their stupid interviews. Why the Final Eight Interviews are even a thing is beyond my comprehension. Why would anyone want to meet my friends and family? To try to find out how royally they managed to fuck me up? I'm an idiot and muttered Liam's name during my interview, so they probably found him too.

I scoff at the thought. That complete dumbass trying to look suave and presentable. Probably tried to pretend that I was his first love or something dumb like that. It was undoubtedly a complete train wreck, and I can't imagine the interview with my family going much better. I wonder if they even tried to pretend they actually cared about me.

My whole life I've been treated like dirt. My mother doesn't love anybody, and my father was too uncaring to show any love-if he even did have any. My siblings are all just as cold as my mother, and I didn't find any solace away from home, either. For a district that's supposed to be based around its intelligence, District Three has a profound ability to be full of idiot jackasses.

The school was already full of sexist, racist excuses for human beings, but add to that the person that's supposed to be beneath them, lower then they are, proves that she's worth more than all of them combined? That just made them angrier. When I skipped two grades by the time the other kids my age had even finished as many years, all of that hatred just got worse.

And I'm glad. I'm happy that I made those worthless sacks of shit feel so insecure about themselves that they had to take it out on me. They think that they could hurt me with their words, but they only made me stronger. By the time I was ten, there was nothing anybody could tell me I hadn't already heard. They threw their worst at me, and while it may have hurt me like hell, I made it through. If you can survive a trial by fire, you come out the other side the better for it.

That tool stabbed a needle through my ear when I was seven years old, and when I was ten they all managed to make me so utterly worthless I nearly decided that life wasn't even worth living anymore. And when I stood on that rooftop, looking down below, shaking in fear and uncertainty, there was nobody there to talk me down. No caring parent to tell me that I'm loved, no friend to beg me to not do it, no knight in shining armor coming to take me away, to tell me that everyone else was wrong about me. There was nobody.

I could have jumped right then and there, and nobody would have cared. And that's what stopped me from doing it. All the people who have constantly beat me down, told me I'm worthless, driven me to the point where I don't even want to carry on anymore. . . why should I give them what they want? Sure, I could take the easy way out, decide that the pain wasn't worth it, and just give up. Or I could keep on going, and promise myself right then and there that I would make those bastards pay. That I would be better then all of them put together.

I promised to myself that day that I would prove every last one of them wrong. And after all that I've been through. . . there is _nothing_ left that will stop me from keeping that promise.

 **Gloria Martez, 12, District One**

 **Day 9, 9:05 AM**

 **Floor 18**

It's funny how quickly regret can turn into anger.

So much has changed over the past ten days, but at the end of it all, where has it gotten me? A few days ago it felt like I had stepped over a hurdle, made it past that nagging guilt and regret from my past. It felt like I had finally managed to move on, to stop forcing myself to be someone that I'm not. And then, just as quickly as that feeling faded, it came storming right back.

I had to kill Fiona, there wasn't any choice. She tried to kill us, and didn't leave any other option. If I hadn't killed her, it wouldn't just be me that would be dead, Glory would be gone too. Yet no matter how much I try to tell myself that I was just doing what had to be done, that feeling won't go away.

I just wish that the feeling was regret. I wish that there was _anything_ to feel. But as much as I try to, I can't manage to muster up a single drop of regret for what I did. Not a single bit of empathy, or sorrow, or even just a little bit of guilt over killing a seven-year-old girl.

Just a few days ago, I was feeling on top of the world. I was convinced that the things I had done over the past couple of years, the twisted dreams and sadistic thoughts. . . they weren't really me. Now I'm not so sure. Before, I had always imagined that when I killed someone, there would be some rush of adrenaline, some sort of blissful feeling of satisfaction. A few days ago, I though that when I killed someone. . . there would be this awful, sinking feeling of regret and guilt, like all the feelings I held from Mercy's death multiplied.

But the one thing I never thought I'd feel is absolutely nothing. As much as I try to convince myself otherwise, I just can't find it in my to care. At first I thought I was just confused, still sorting out my thoughts, then I thought I was too distracted by the mutts to feel anything but fear. . . but now what's my excuse? The simple fact of it is that Fiona is dead, and I couldn't care less. She tried to kill me, and so I killed her before she got the chance. There's no large moral dilemma, no sadistic pleasure, not even a twinge of sorrow.

Glory wasn't even the one to kill her, and even she's been more shaken up by it than I have. Last night, while I was unable to fall asleep, I had to listen to her night-terrors. She woke up in the middle of the night, screaming the name of the boy from Twelve that she killed-in self defense, the same way that I did to Fiona. So if us two are really so similar, why don't I feel anything? Why _can't_ I feel anything? Am I just a sociopath, who doesn't care about anyone but myself?

I bet my parents would be real proud of me. The thought lingers in my mind, and a sharp feeling of bitterness comes over me in a wave. Mom and dad would always tell us to let go of our feelings, that they made us weak, and that only someone who put away all their feelings could win the Games. They said it was why Mercy lost the Games, and why Honora would win them.

Compare that to Glory's family, and it's not much of a mystery why I turned out so much differently. While my parents tell me to throw away my emotions, her's just this morning sent her a family picture, with some sort of note telling her to keep up faith. It was corny and sappy and a waste of sponsor points but dammit I can't stop wishing that my parents cared enough about me to do the same thing.

It just seems like my whole life is an entire white-wash, a blank canvas of feelings, an unending circle of uncaring. When my own parents don't care about me, how am I supposed to care about a girl that tried to kill me? Maybe it isn't my fault, maybe. . . there's just nothing that I can do to change who I am. I'm not so sure if that's any better than the alternative.

There's a stir of movement next to me, Glory letting out a high-pitched yawn as she stretches up to her feet. "Morning," she drowsily lets out.

"Morning," I reply dully, sliding the box over to her. "You got something from your family," I tell her, a hint of bitterness seeping into my voice automatically.

If she noticed the sharp tone, she doesn't show it, an excited smile slipping onto her lips as she opens up her gift. I can't even watch as she happily tears the box open, lightly brushing her hand against the framed picture, a sad smile quivering onto her lips. Instead, I turn away, and shut my eyes closed, forcing my thoughts to clear. I don't care about mom and dad.

Why should I, when they don't even care about me?

 **Noa Jacquard, 15, District Eight**

 **Day 9, 9:35 AM**

 **Floor 21**

"This is the most beautiful sunrise I've seen in my entire life," I say, breathlessly. The whole sky is illuminated in a golden haze, a light mist rolling through the orange air. And the air. . . oh god, I didn't realize how much I missed fresh air. The smell of flowers, the sound of birds, the cool breeze brushing against my bare feet as they curl up, lightly rubbing against the wooden floor.

"You said that yesterday," Fey comments with an eye roll, leaning back into her her lawn chair, the sun shining against her tanned skin as she stretches out.

"And I'm going to say it today."

"And you'll say it again tomorrow," Fey giggles.

I laugh myself, shrugging sheepishly. "And I'll say it for every single day from now on," I respond with awe. "I'll die happy if I wake up to this every morning for the rest of my life."

"It is kind of pretty," Fey shrugs.

"It's the single most amazing thing I've seen in my life," I sigh back, shaking my head. "I don't think the word 'pretty' even begins to cover it."

"What word would then?" She asks curiously, peeking over at me.

Letting out a deep sigh, I bring my arms up behind my head. "I don't even think there is a word for it."

"Then let's make one up!" She exclaims excitedly, rubbing her hands together. "Ooh! Fey-tastic!"

With a short laugh, I shake my head. "C'mon, Felicity is already a word. How about I get this one?"

Scrunching her nose, Fey gives an exaggerated head shake. "Noa-tastic?"

"Well sorry that not everyone can _literally_ be named 'happiness,'" I chuckle.

"You sound jealous," she prods cheekily.

"Oh, _very_ ," I drawl. "Maybe I'll change my name to 'Merry' after all of this is over, since that's the new trend."

"Eh," she shrugs. "Better, but still not good."

With a snort, I shake my head, and go to respond-before being stopped with my mouth hanging open as a pounding sound comes from the room.

I'm instantly to my feet, Fey still frozen in place as I run over to the sliding glass door. Just as I begin to open it, the door to the main room opens, my stomach dropping as I see the girl from One step into the room. . . and then another Glory following after her? I freeze up in confusion for a moment, though that's quickly shaken off as one of them unsheathes a katana and begins to quicken her pace towards me.

With any plans of fighting thrown off, I slam the door shut, clicking the lock in place. The girl gets to the door just as its locked, and collides into it shoulder first, the door holding up the pressure, but not by much. She slams into it again, and it doesn't take long to realize that it won't take many hits to get through. I quickly scan the deck for anything that could block the door, but there's nothing aside from the two lawn chairs, both of which are flimsy and weigh practically nothing.

The girl stops ramming the door as the two Glory's start rapidly speaking to each other, and I use that as a chance to turn to Fey, who is still locked in place. "What's going on?" She shakily spits out, shudders running down her whole body as she brings her knees up to her chest.

"We have company," I murmur, dropping to the floor to see if there's anything under the chairs-which there unsurprisingly isn't. "Do you have anything in your pockets?" I ask desperately, as my own search brings up nothing.

She rapidly shakes her head, tears now welling up in her eyes as she seems to sense the fear in me.

My head is in full-on analysis mode, trying to think of anything to possibly do to get out of this mess. The deck is just a flat stretch of wood, with five foot railings-too high to shove someone off. The glass is too thick to smash through, and I have absolutely nothing on me except for a few two-pound lawn chairs. The two girls waited outside, on the other hand, are armed with a katana and a knife. The girl with the knife is holding hers with a shaky grip, but her clone with the katana looks deadly confident with the blade in her hands, a harsh gaze set in her eyes.

"There has to be something," I mutter to myself, double and triple checking every inch of the deck, knowing full well that I'll find nothing.

A loud pounding comes from the door, the door nearly jarring loose as both girls collide into it. As Fey holds back tears, I fall back into my seat, an empty feeling overtaking my gut. There's nothing. Absolutely nothing that could possibly save us.

"Noa, what's going on?" Fey shakily cries out, bringing her hands up to block her eyes.

I don't respond, eyes dully falling over the view ahead of me, on the sunrise up above, all the way down to the wooden railing-where my eyes stay for a long second. I go lightheaded as I shakily make my way to my feet, walking over to the railing and peering down. Fog overtakes the vision quickly, but it's easy to see that the fall is definitely lethal, a full twenty-one story drop.

A jolt runs through my bones as I tentatively reach out my hand, adrenaline pounding through my veins, an overwhelming sense of fear unlike anything else I've ever felt filling every ounce of my being. I'm going to die, and the only thing I get to choose is how. In the corner of my vision, I can make out Calico, his doe eyes bearing into me with tears dripping down his cheeks.

His hand is outstretched towards me as he walks over, a reassuring smile on his lips. My arm goes limp, and I force it up, reaching out towards him. . . and then quickly pull back as he reaches out, yanking it away and gripping onto the wooden railing. No, I've come so far in the past week. I'm not going to spend my last moments speaking to somebody who doesn't exist.

My eyes fall back to Fey, who is peering between her fingers at me, silent sobs still rapidly escaping from her throat. "Don't worry," I choke out unconvincingly. "We're gonna be alright, nothing to be sad about."

"You don't look like you're not scared," she whines back.

"Yeah," I sigh, looking down to my feet. "I am scared, but that's alright." I look back up at her, a fire burning in my eyes as I put up a sad smile. "Change is always scary. But soon. . . things'll be better. No more fear, no more paranoia. . ." my gaze settles on Calico, who is still sorrowfully reaching out towards me. "No more seeing things that aren't there," I mutter under my breath, putting my second hand on the railing, and turning away from Calico for the last time.

Another pounding comes from the door, and I lift myself up onto the railing, my feet dangling over the edge as my knuckles go white from gripping onto the wood. A breeze brushes against my cheek, and I nearly laugh, sadly looking up into the sky, the orange and yellow explosion of colors lighting up the sky in an overwhelming feeling of joy.

My fingers are slick with sweat as I shakily lift them up, my body wobbling as I sit at the edge. I look over at my shoulder at Fey, and see her beginning to curl out of her ball, looking at me with a mixture of confusion and fear.

Offering a wobbly smile, I give her a thumbs up. "Everything's gonna turn out just fine," I choke out, quickly turning away before any tears spill.

The door gets pounded against again, a cracking accompanying it this time, and without a second thought, I drift forwards, allowing myself to fall downwards. Despite all the fear I felt just moments ago, an overwhelming sense of calm overtakes me as I turn, allowing myself to face upwards, to the sky. After all, it's a beautiful view, and if there were anything to be my last sight?

I think that this will do just fine.

 **Apollo Thompson, 44, Stand-in Mentor for District One**

 **June 9th, 6:55 AM**

 **CDA Headquarters, The Capitol**

I've had a lot of long nights in my lifetime, but this one ranks up there towards the top. When I got a call from Jaycen at ten o'clock to come to CDA Headquarters ASAP, I already knew something was up, but I don't think either of us had any idea at that point just how messy things would get.

Audra spoke to Jaycen. She told him everything, apparently convinced by Coira, and Jaycen wasted no time getting to work afterwards. At first it seemed like a relatively 'simple' case-if you can call the Head Gamemaker being implicated in an illegal victor prostitution ring during the closing days of a quarter quell 'simple.' But after Talon was brought in for questioning it didn't take him long to spill everything, and when he did. . . things got a hell of a lot more complicated.

"I came as soon as I could," Delilah states breathlessly, the new president of Panem quickly entering the room and slipping the door shut behind her. She takes a seat opposite from Jaycen and I, slipping into the seat next to Tali. "Fill me in."

"It's a doozy," Jaycen sighs, shuffling a few papers before diving in. "Things started out as enough of a mess-Head Gamemaker Dawson was accused of not only being behind a victor prostitution business, but also partaking in the illicit behavior himself-"

"And are those just accusations?" Delilah interrupts, her eyes shining with worry, undoubtedly about the prospect of losing her Head Gamemaker so close to the end of the Games.

"At first they were, but he confessed to it not too long ago, as well as some. . . other things."

"What sort of other things?" Delilah asks wearily.

Jaycen slides a stack of papers towards her, shaking his head. "The recent attacks on the Capitol weren't from terrorist organizations," Jaycen grimly states.

Delilah's expression falls instantly, the realization overtaking her and a wave of emotions ranging from anger to disbelief showing on her face. "All of them?" She asks breathlessly. "How?"

"That's where things get really murky," he explains, running a hand through his hair. "Talon wasn't the one in charge, or so he claims. He's been quite adamant that. . . former President Young was behind both the prostitution ring and the attacks, or at least, all of them except for the attack which took the President's life."

"So what were the point of the attacks then?" Delilah demands.

"There were a few reasons," I jump in, sensing Jaycen's fatigue starting to set in. He's already had long enough of a night without the debriefings. "They were worried about leaks, and were hoping this would be a distraction to deflect any investigations. Aside from that, President Young was known to want District Thirteen under Capitol control again, and this could be one way to get it."

"There was an assassination attempt on your daughter as well, wasn't there?" Tali asks me inquisitively, looking deep in thought, and clearly meaning the question only rhetorically. I don't answer, instead leaving her to think, and a moment later she looks up, grimacing. "If they somehow found out that Coira knew about their 'business,' then the bombing of the school could have been an attempt to. . . distract her."

She glances at me wearily, and I just stare blankly ahead, not even knowing what to feel about that. That the man who had been my closest friend for twenty years would murder an entire school full of children-Connie not one of them only by pure chance- just to save his own skin? That he could even do something so despicable as victor prostitution in the first place?

Shaking my head, I pop out of my chair and onto my feet. "I need to speak with him."

"Apollo-"

"Just a few minutes, Jaycen," I sigh, placing my hands down on the table.

There's a long pause, before a buzzing sound, and Jaycen's voice quietly murmuring something. I can feel his eyes bearing down on me, and I glance over to see him looking at me tiredly. "Two minutes, then you get some rest."

"You too," I respond back with equal energy, fatigue starting to wear me down.

He just shakes his head though, giving a deep sigh. "I don't sleep until my job's done."

I don't bother arguing, stepping out of the room and allowing myself to be escorted by a guard to one of the cells. He opens up the door and waves me in, and I nod at him and step inside.

The room is all dimly lit, with just a single desk and two chairs. Seated on the opposite chair sits a very tired looking Talon Dawson, his hands cuffed to the table, his head resting on his shoulder. As soon as I step into the room, his head shoots up, his eyes darting up to me, a knowing smile forming on his lips when he sees me. "Apollo," he greets casually, as if we were still friends.

I don't plan on playing around, though, a firm look locked on my face as I drop into the seat opposite of him. "Why?"

The smile drops from his lips for just a moment, but then he pauses, and chuckles, shaking his head. "You say that is if I had a choice."

"You did," I shoot back harshly, his smile once again dropping.

"No, I didn't," he grimly replies, and I look for him to continue, which, after a few seconds, he does. "It was a stupid mistake I made back when I was a young Gamemaker, I had a dumb crush on one of the victors, and the Head Gamemaker back then. . . gave me an offer." He pauses, and for just a moment I see what seems to be genuine regret in his eyes, though it quickly disappears as he shakes his head. "He was a crappy Gamemaker, though, and got fired pretty fast. The next Head Gamemaker found out about what had been going on, and held it over our heads-blackmailed us. I had no choice but to do whatever I was told."

This time I'm barely able to withhold my anger, pounding my fists down on the table as I shoot up to my feet. "You had no choice but to _use_ a fifteen-year-old girl?" I shout at him, taking every bit of willpower to resist leaping over this desk and beating the piece of shit to a blood pulp. It only becomes harder to resist that temptation when he just starts laughing.

His laughter just gets louder and louder until he finally shrugs, his laughter finally dying down. "Is that really all you came here to do? Try to convince me I'm a crappy person?" He gives a short laugh, and with cuffed hands points up to me, his voice much lower. "We've both been shitty people for a _long_ time, Apollo, but at least what I did was for a cause."

"A cause?" I explode, reaching over and grabbing him by the shirt, tugging him forward. "Was _raping kids_ your cause?"

He smiles back slyly, and I let go of him, stepping back in disgust as the doors open behind me. "Change is coming, Apollo," he chuckles lightly. "I'd make sure that you end up on the right side."

As the guard takes my arm and half-drags me out the room, I glare my old friend down one last time, narrowing my eyes and forcing a slight smile onto my own lips. "I always do."

* * *

 **7th: Noa: Noa you were a special one. From the very first time I wrote you I fell in love with your character. It would be so easy to have her just be some wack-job that hallucinates, but she really is more than that. She's a 15-year-old girl that got stuck with a horrid mental illness, and fought like hell despite her disadvantages. Writing her turn from her complete mental breakdown the first time we saw her to where she is now was an absolute delight, and while it broke my heart to have to kill her off, I'm glad that I was at least able to let her go happy. Bluesquad, thank you for this complex, heartbreaking young woman. RIP.**

 **6th: Fey: I've had a lot of deaths so far this story that have hurt, and Fey is definitely up at the top of that list. She was a sweet, innocent little girl that was totally naive to the world around her. But despite her blissful ignorance, she really was an amazing kid. Her relationship with Noa was one of my favorites I've ever written, and I'm going to miss this little sweetheart. Tom, thank you for this naive little cinnamon roll. RIP.**

 **A/N: This is it. Next chapter is the final of the Games. It's surreal, honestly. It's been such a journey to get here, and to be so close is such a mixture of emotions that I don't even know how to put them into words. Since next chapter is the final, sponsor points are a bit useless, so I'll just ask the question here instead. With just five tributes left, and only one more chapter left, who do you think is going to be crowned victor?**

 **Current Alliances:**

 **Measures:** Alt  
 _2 Knives  
_ Location: Floor 18

 **Careers:** Gloria, Glory  
 _Katana, 3 Knives, 2 Walky-Talkies, 2 Hunting Rifles, Dwindling supply of food and water  
_ Location: Floors 21

 **Our Keepers:** Zarach, Amara  
 _Revolver, 2 Bullets_ _  
_Location: Floor 19


	42. The Finale: It Ends Tonight

**A/N: This is it, the finale. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _~Just a little insight will make this right_

 _It's too late to fight_

 _It ends tonight_

 _It ends tonight~_

* * *

 **Glory Fairfax, 9, District One**

 **Day 10, 6:00 PM**

 **Floor 21**

I'm so close to home. After ten days in this arena, it's down to just five of us. Fiona, Rio, Celaena, Marina- all of them are dead, and yet here I still am. Before the Games started, I didn't even allow myself to think that winning would be possible. Every minute leading up to the arena was spent terrified that I was going to die, I never allowed myself to believe I could actually win. Yet here I am, so close to victory, so close to going home.

After the girl from Eight committed suicide. . . Gloria and I rested for a while. Last night, when neither of us could even pretend to be asleep, we started talking. It started out innocent enough, small talk about being excited to win and go home, and then turned sour after I asked her what the first thing she did would be once she got back.

I've managed to figure out that Gloria doesn't have the best family, but the way her face changed the second I mentioned them made it seem like she flat out despised them. She was quiet a while after that, until she asked me a question that had been on my mind ever since that first encounter with Nova. _Do we deserve to win?_

She didn't say we, but as much as she's been down on herself lately- I don't see what makes me any better than her. I killed a five-year-old boy. A boy who was so selfless that he came to me when I was in tears and cheered me up. Then, because I apparently don't learn from the mistakes I make- I did the same thing again. This time it was a mentally ill girl and a naive little six-year-old. Both of them dead because of Gloria and I.

Between the two of us, six kids are now dead. What makes our lives worth more than all of theirs? And now if I want to go home, three more people will have to die, one of which is an innocent seven-year-old girl who didn't even realize what the Games were during her interview. A part of me knows that there's nothing that makes my life any more important than hers, and yet I can't bring myself to not want her dead. Because as much as I hate myself for it. . . I don't want to die. And I don't know if I can say for sure that there's anything I wouldn't do in order to make sure that I leave this arena breathing. After all, I've already done my worst, haven't I? I at least hope so.

Gloria wipes the blade of her katana with her shirt yet again, the fruitless habit of hers always taking over when she gets bored- or nervous. I'm not sure which of the two she's feeling right now- or I am for that matter.

It's six o'clock now, prime-time viewing in the Capitol. If there were any time for them to do the finale, now would be it. Any moment now the Gamemakers could throw their worst at us, and the thought of the Games being over in just a few minutes is all gut-wrenchingly terrifying, exhausting, and relieving. No matter what, the Games have to end, might as well get them over as soon as possible. . . right?

I don't manage to much convince myself, copying Gloria as I absently wipe the blades of my two knives with my shirt, whistling a familiar tune beneath my breath. Gloria looks over to me and offers a nervous smile, and I return an even less convincing one of my own, barely holding the smile for a second before I look back down to my knives.

The tension in the air is so thick you can feel it, and I tense up my legs to try to stop the shake in them that won't go away, the jitters just moving up to my arms instead as I slam my eyes shut, forcing myself to take deep breaths. Just as my eyes slide shut, it gets dark, too dark. There's a loud shuttering noise as my eyes open back up to find the room still in darkness, only a faint light peering in through the windows.

"Well that's not good," I murmur, tightening the grip on my knives until my knuckles turn white.

"That can't be all," Gloria says, cautiously walking towards me with her katana raised in the air.

Just as the words come out of her mouth, they're proven true, a loud explosion shaking the ground, Gloria tumbling to the ground as I'm barely able able to keep myself on my feet. "That's _really_ not good," I nervously spit out.

Gloria stumbles to her feet, and holds up her hand for a moment, shushing me. The two of us both stands still for a moment, before Gloria shakes her head and curses under her breath. "Sounds like a fire, you said there was a rooftop access, right?"

I quickly nod my head, motioning over to the far corner of the room. "It was locked though."

"I bet it isn't anymore," she replies rapidly, slinging the katana over her shoulder as she begins jogging over.

I stand frozen for a moment before I shake off my jitters and follow after her, knives gripped tightly in each hand.

This is it. In just a few minutes, I'll either be a victor. . . or dead.

 **Amara Ekkal, 7, District Six**

 **Day 10, 6:05 PM**

 **Floor 20**

I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm not scared.

Those three words run through my mind on repeat, a meaningless mantra that I force myself to keep in my thoughts. Zarach is squeezing onto my hand so hard that I can't feel it anymore, but I don't say anything, too terrified of him letting go. My sight is completely blocked out in darkness, Zarach blindly stumbling forwards, hoping to find the fire escape door that he found earlier today.

I'm barely able to remind myself to breath as I slowly get pulled along by Zarach, my body entering into complete shock. The last couple of days I've been trying so hard to pretend that I'm okay. . . but the second that explosion sounded all of the acting went out the window and I wanted to just curl up into a ball and scream. If it weren't for Zarach dragging me forwards, that's where I'd be right now, just crying my eyes out and slamming them shut, desperately wishing that this is all just some horrible nightmare. That I'll wake up and mom and dad will be there to brush my hair back and tell me everything is going to be alright.

But this isn't just a dream, and everything isn't alright. We're walking through the dark, praying that we manage to find the door and don't get swallowed up by a fire. Hoping beyond hope that we manage to get out of here, and right where the other tributes are. The scary girl from Three, and the two Careers-all of them trying to kill us.

I shake my head, ridding myself of those thoughts. No, Zarach is strong, and he'll protect me. He'll make sure that we both get home. He promised me that we would, and he would never go back on a promise. Right?

As much as I try to, I can't get myself to fully believe that. No matter how much I tell myself that being scared isn't doing me any good, that I should be acting strong for Zarach, and I should be happy for Armie. . . I just can't. I can't pretend anymore. I'm scared.

"I see the door," Zarach coughs out, smoke beginning to fill into the room. The two of us stumble forward a few more steps before Zarach lets go of my hand, a squeak rising from me as he charges forward, slamming into the door. Zarach plows through as the door swings open, and I'm blinded for a moment, stepping back as light blasts at me.

There's a thud in front of me, and my eyes are immediately open again, sprinting forward as Zarach scrambles to his feet, something knocking him down onto the ground-if you could call it that. The area outside is just a flimsy looking stairway, just three feet wide and barely any railing preventing you from dropping. Normally it would take every ounce of willpower to overcome the fear of the fall, but with Zarach in a daze on the floor, all of those thoughts are gone as I rush to help him up.

"Zarach?" I plead. "Are you okay?" I'm practically begging as the words come out, desperately hoping he's fine.

"Duck," is all that he replies in a low voice, and when I don't respond, he reaches out and lightly shoves me back towards the door, pulling out the gun and aiming where I just was.

He fires off one bullet, but just as he does a knife collides with his hand, and his hand shakes, the bullet exploding into the wall just a few inches in front of me. Concrete debris flies into my face, and a scream escapes from me as I scramble backwards, arms covered over my head. There's the sounds of a struggle from where Zarach is, and I peer up to see him stumbling backwards on his hands and feet, reaching out towards the pistol- which has been knocked out of his grasp.

The girl from Three is right at his heels, slashing out wildly with a knife, a feral look in her eyes as she repeatedly makes cuts into his legs, Zarach wincing in pain with each stab, but continuing to go for the gun. Just as his hand grasps around the handle and he pulls it towards the girl, she throws the knife towards his hand, and Zarach has to let go of the gun as he pulls his hand back, the pistol harmlessly falling against the ground as the two continue to fight, the girl pulling out another knife as Zarach attempts to protect his throat and head.

I'm not paying attention to the fight anymore, though, my eyes locked on the pistol, halfway between me and the scary girl. I'm still in the fetal position, and my brain is screaming at me to stay where I am, let Zarach handle it, but another part of me is urging me forwards. Zarach needs help, and what am I doing? Sitting here like a baby and crying? I have to be brave. For him.

With that thought I'm scrambling towards the gun, on all fours as I crawl forward. The fight has moved to the ledge, with Zarach's head over the edge while he blocks and dodges the downwards stabs, neither of them on their feet as they desperately attempt to throw the other over the edge.

My fingers wrap around the handle of the gun, and I bring it up to my chest, shakily pointing it towards the girl, trying to think back on how to use it. I never practiced with it in training, but I saw Zarach use it all the time, and I know that you just have to pull the trigger to shoot. . . but what if I miss? That thought keeps me frozen in place, backed against the wall with the gun pressed against my chest, both hands wrapped around the handle as I shakily aim it towards the girl.

Zarach grabs onto the girl's free hand, and yanks it hard, the girls body colliding roughly with the lone metal bar that acts as a railing. She nearly crumples to the ground as she stumbles back, only for Zarach to pull her into the bar again, the girl falling to the ground this time. Zarach takes that opportunity to get back onto all fours, lunging towards her.

The girl is in a daze, and barely seems to realize what's going on, blindly holding the knife in front of her- right where Zarach dives. The knife slices into Zarach's chest, his eyes going wide as a high-pitched scream escapes from my throat, the gun dropping to the floor as my hands go to my ears, attempting to block out all noise as I force my eyes shut. No, no, this is just a dream. This isn't real.

A scream from the girl snaps my eyes back open- just in time to see her stab the knife into Zarach's head, his body crumpling to the ground as a canon fires off.

 _Boom!_

Another scream comes from me, mixed with choked out sobs and watery eyes that barely are holding back tears. The girl smiles slightly as she pulls the knife back out, switching her gaze to me.

For just a moment, all of my fear is gone, replaced by a bottomless well of anger. She takes a step towards me, but doesn't get another- the gun back in my hands and fired off in another moment, smoke rising from the front as the girl's smile is wiped straight off, her mouth gaping open and closed as she scratches at her bloodied chest, but only for a second before she collapses to the ground.

 _Boom!_

The gun drops from my hands, clattering to the ground as tears begin to stain my cheeks, my breath ragged as my hands are shakily held out in front of me, unsure what to do with them. I killed her. And she killed Zarach, which means. . . .

Another sob escapes from me as I slink further to the ground, burying my head into my knees. Please, please, please, be a dream. Let me wake up in bed, and let me tell mom and dad all about my awful nightmare. Let them comfort me, and tell me that it was just a bad dream, and that everything is okay. Please, please, please. Please. . . .

A shudder runs through my body, a sudden tiredness falling over my body, and one more sob comes out as a stream of tears continues to fall, dripping down to my lap in tiny droplets. This can't be real, I. . . I don't want to die.

With my last bit of energy I look up from my lap, sniffling as I shakily let in shallow breaths, my voice coming out in just a whisper. "I'm scared."

 **Gloria Martez, 12, District One**

 **Day 10, 6:10 PM**

 **Rooftop**

 _Boom!_

The third cannon goes off as the little girl down on the stairs dies, and the smallest hint of a smile forms in my lips. I'm going home.

Glory doesn't react as positively though. "I'm gonna be sick," she shakes out, hugging her shoulders as she forces herself to peel her eyes away from the bloody scene just below. She looks like she actually might be too, shakily dropping to her knees as she forces her eyes shut.

"Better them than us," I offer awkwardly, not sure what to even say, and just hoping for the trumpets to sound and get us out of this place already.

"Is it?" She shoots back, tears threatening to spill over as she glares at me with a hurt expression that makes me feel a bit queasy myself.

"I don't know," I murmur back, sitting across from her and staring at the ground.

"I do," she replies with ragged breath, a hard look in her eyes. "I don't deserve to win," she chokes out.

"You did what you had to," I tell her.

"I killed a five-year-old," she shouts back, shudders running down her whole body. "And because I won, she," Glory points down to the stairwell, not allowing herself to even look. "died."

"At least you didn't want to be here," I shoot back with more venom than I intended. She flinches backwards as I lean in, a slight shake starting in my own hands as I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop it. "I trained for years, dreaming of coming here. And when I finally did get chosen I was _happy._ And when I killed a seven-year-old girl I didn't even feel a single thing from it. Don't you go feeling sorry about how crummy of a person you are, because at least you feel bad about who you are." My voice is stuttering now, my eyes beginning to water up. "I'm a shitty person, Glory, and I have been for a long time," I admit breathlessly, scoffing as I shake my head. "So don't tell me about how _you_ don't deserve to win."

Glory's eyes stare down to the ground, flirting towards the stairs for just a moment before shooting back. "Maybe neither of us deserve to," she mutters bitterly.

"Nobody wins the Games by mistake," I bitterly mimic the words of my mother, shaking my head as I look down at my hands in disgust.

The two of us fall silent at that, the air thick as both of us bottle up our emotions, tears being forced back and words being held down as we stare down at the ground. We stay like that as the minutes pass by, before finally Glory looks up, a mixture of worry and acceptance on her face. "They should have came by now," she says lightly, pulling the knives from her belt with an unreadable expression.

"They would've," I reply knowingly, pulling out my own weapon as I look up at her, just in time to see her slowly climb to her feet, turn around, and with a muted scream throw her knives off of the roof.

"I don't care anymore," she spits out shakily, fists clenched as she looks up to the sky. "I'M DONE!" She yells upwards, pain seeping into her voice as a choked out sob comes after, blinking back tears as she turns back to me.

I look between Glory and my weapon, beginning to step forward but stopping in mid-air. This is it, she's not even going to fight back. All I have to do is take two steps forward, and with one simple bullet be done. I can be the victor of the One-Hundredth Hunger Games, and go home again. But that thought stops me for a moment, keeping me frozen, the words I spoke out loud just minutes ago bouncing around inside of my head. After all that I've done, the person I am, the home I would go back to. . . why should I win? Why should I even _want_ to win?

I bite down on my cheek, both sides waging war in my mind as I stare Glory down, her sad, defeated eyes bearing down into mine. She looks completely harmless, broken, and her face just makes my head spin even more. She looks exactly how I used to right after Mercy, even down to that soulless expression. It may be too late for me. . . but maybe it isn't for her.

Another side of my head flinches back at the idea, and before I know it I've taken another step forward, now within reach of Glory, and just a simple pull of the trigger away from victory. Why should I give up my own life for someone else, someone who doesn't even want to live? I'll be doing both of us a favor. I'll finally be avenging Mercy, I'll be a _victor_.

Glory doesn't even blink as I hold the gun up at her, just a simple finger-twitch away from her life being over. My hands are shaking and a tear drips down from my noise, the only sound in the air being the patter it makes against the ground.

That sound stops me in my tracks, my hands no longer shaking as I lower the gun to the ground, my breath heavy as I shut my eyes, shaking my head. In my head my thoughts drift back to Mercy, her reassuring smile, her warm, kind voice- and for just a moment I allow myself to smile.

I drift my eyes open, and with a deep breath, shakily speak to Glory. "You're wrong, you know."

She just stares back unnervingly, only a glimmer of confusion shining in her eyes. "About what?" She asks, her voice a mixture of tired and hurt.

"You do deserve it," I tell her confidently, offering a sad smile. "Never forget that," I whisper.

The confusion in her eyes only lasts for a moment before they widen in understanding, stepping out towards me and saying something that I don't hear. Without giving myself a single other thought, a single chance to change my mind, I bring the gun up to my head, and pull the trigger.

* * *

 **A/N: That's it. It's been one hell of a ride, but after 15 months, the Games are officially over. Congratulations to the victor of the 100th Hunger Games, Glory Fairfax! I have a lot to say in the eulogies below, but for now will leave it at this. Thank you all for your continued support throughout this story, and keep your eyes out for the final 3 epilogue chapters, as well as for No Apologies, which will be up soon.**

 **5th Place: Zarach: You deserved better than this. I'll touch more on this in Amara's section, but there were times when I was tempted to make you and Amara come out as victors. You were such a brilliant character, this regretful guy who ran away from his past life, and wanted desperately to never again look back. Writing your transition from this cold, stand-offish arse into a guy who's begun to accept his past, and move on with his future was so amazing to do, and your interactions with Amara always brought a smile to my face. It was just so easy to write this guy, and I'm going to miss him so much now that he's gone. Tom, thank you for this regretful, fantastic character, and sorry that I couldn't give you a victor this time around. RIP.**

 **4th Place: Alt: Alt is a character that really grew on me. At first I had her finish around 20th or so with Lei, but as I began to develop her beyond just being the analytical tribute, and dive more into her past, I began to fall in love with her. It's so easy to look at her as this unlikable scumbag, but in reality she's just a broken girl who got hurt her whole childhood, and put up a shell to deal with the pain. This development was so amazing to write, and I'm glad that I last managed to bring out more of her side of the story before she went down as the "bad guy." DarkHorse, thank you for this broken, shelled in girl. RIP.**

 **3rd Place: Amara: Oh god. I think I might have actually started crying when I had to kill her. When I first saw her form I just thought "eh, another typical younger tribute, probably go around 14th or so." How horribly wrong I was. From the very first time I wrote her I fell in love with her character, and she's been the most fun character that I've ever gotten to write. On top of that, she was more than a character really, she felt like a real person, which is why I loved her so much. She was just a normal, naive little girl who got thrown into this god-awful scenario, and did her best to remain strong during it, even though she was just a kid. I wanted to make her victor so bad. SO BAD. When I came up with this idea for her death ~4 months ago, I had no idea how attached I would grow to Amara, and part of me really wanted to just scrap all of the plans I've set up and just let her win, because killing her off hurt so damn bad. But in the end, I forced myself to stick to my guns, and as much as it hurt, she had to finish 3rd. Empress, thank you for my favorite character that I'll ever kill off, and I can promise you that while she may be dead, Amara will continue to play a role in this story as well as the next. RIP.**

 **2nd Place: Gloria: Yeah, I'm a scumbag. Killing off the sweet innocent kid isn't enough for me, and I decided to pull of this jackass move too. I actually originally planned to have two victors, but then. . . well, this may sound weird, but bear with me here: I read Alerio's submission form. The second I read his form, I loved him and really wanted him to be victor, but there was the problem that I had already decided that I wanted Glory to be victor to. So then I got the idea of the thing where Fiona would ask for the switch, and then Fiona would get killed during that scene earlier, as would Gloria, letting them both be from the same District! Then, I was literally right there at the sentence where I would say that Gloria would die, and I just couldn't do it. I had grown so attached to Gloria, and had so much more development I wanted to do with her, so I threw my plans out the window and killed Rio instead. Only problem with that, is I had planned out since literally before I even started writing the first reaping chapter that the finale would be Rio sacrificing himself so Glory could win. So, because I've planned out the next story with only one victor in mind, I couldn't really switch that to two here- thus, me being a complete arse and pulling this BS on you guys. But all of that drama aside, Gloria was such a fun tribute. Getting to develop this girl that was the exact opposite of Glory despite their similar backgrounds and kind of pull them both more towards the other was my favorite character development I've done in this story, and as much as it hurt to kill Gloria off, it really was the best possible end to her arc. Goldie, thank you for this troubled young girl with more good in her than she allows herself to think. RIP.**

 **VICTOR: Glory: And after 15 months, here we are! So, in most stories you know how you usually start writing, getting a feel for tributes, and are constantly switching around thinking who is gonna be the victor? I never had that problem. Glory was the very first tribute I received, and from the moment I got her and all the way to right now there wasn't a single moment I planned on anyone else winning instead. She's such a fantastic character with so many levels to her, and I cannot wait to continue to write her and develop her further in the coming chapters and story. Dreamer, thank you for this amazing character, and here's to your first victor, you definitely deserve it!**

 **A/N: And there it is, I have lots more stuff I want to say, but this A/N is already so ridiculously long I'll save it for the next few chapters. Now that I've finished this story I can tell you guys literally anything about this story, whether it be original plans for characters, outtakes, or foreshadowing that I (half) stuck in the story, so I'll be putting some of that stuff in the next few author notes.**

 **Until then, one more gigantic thank you to each and every one of you that have stuck around throughout this story. It's been one hell of a ride, and I look forward to doing it again with the 101st!**


	43. The Day After: Glorious

**A/N: Here's the first of three epilogues, the day after!**

* * *

 _~I made it through the darkest part of the night_

 _And now I see the sunrise_

 _Now I feel glorious, glorious_

 _I feel glorious, glorious~_

* * *

 **Glory Fairfax, 9, Victor of the 100th Hunger Games**

 **June 11th, 11:57 AM**

 **Off-Stage, The Games Center**

My fingers twirl nervously around my skirt, attempting to keep my calm while my prep team quickly applies the finishing touches on the ridiculous amount of makeup they've caked my face with. My stylist, who's name I've forgotten again, stands back and strokes his chin thoughtfully as he watches his team work.

On stage there's a loud burst of music, and thunderous applause as Apollo steps on stage from the other side. "That's perfect," the man claps, the rest of my prep team stepping aside as he walks up to me to get a closer look. My head is drooping to the ground and without warning he lifts up my chin to get a look at my face, my head limply lifting up. I'm too tired to even be annoyed.

He nods ever so slightly, and begins chatting with his prep team as I zone him out. Even when he turns to speak to me, I don't listen, staring blankly out on stage, just waiting to get this over with. Because I had no injuries, and ate and drank well enough in the arena, I was only given the night to recover and 'rest,' which amounted to three hours raving like a lunatic in a hovercraft, and then eight sleepless hours spent tossing and turning on my bed until prep time began. The makeup may be able to hide the strain in my eyes and the bags under them, but they can't make me feel any less completely exhausted. I don't think even sleep could help with that.

With a click of the tongue, my stylist seems to realize I'm not listening, turning with a "humph," and marching away, prep team hot on his heels. My eyes are still focused out on stage, half open and not even processing anything that I'm seeing, just a hazy blur of colors ahead of me. Sound is the same way, a distorted blend of applause, music, and what must be Apollo talking.

Aside from doctors and my prep team, Apollo is the only other person I've seen, with him technically being my mentor. He came to the medical wing to visit me late last night, seemingly realizing that I wouldn't be asleep. We talked for a while, and he tried his best to cheer me up, and he really did say some nice things- but none of them made any difference. No matter what he says, it doesn't change the fact that all of those people are dead because of me. Nova, Dakota, Noa, Fey, Amara, Gloria. . . even Fiona and Rio. He can't say anything that will make me think my life matters more than theirs.

A cold breeze hits me, and I bring my hands up to my bare shoulders, shaking lightly as I suddenly wish that they would have put me in something heavier. As far as outfits go, I can't really complain about a pearl necklace, a simple white sleeveless shirt, and white skirt- not compared to what some of the other victors have been put in. That being said, if I could pick- a sweatshirt would be nice, or maybe even just a blanket to drape over my shoulders.

The words "Glory Fairfax," manage to cut through my thoughts, and I blink twice, staring dully out on stage. Apollo has his arms raised in my direction, a thick smile on his lips as he looks me directly in the eyes, subtly motioning to come on stage with a flick of his gaze.

My feet begin to move by themselves, stumbling forward as I nearly trip over myself just getting on stage. As soon as I manage to tumble onto stage, I lock up. The applause and cheering are thunderous, so loud that I can't even hear myself think. There's an endless stream of rows, what seems like millions of Capitolites all with their eyes locked on me, the flashes of cameras blinding as I attempt to gaze out at them.

Immediately my gaze is down to my feet, and I go back to Apollo's advice for me last night- when he warned me that this might be hard. Just keep my eyes on my feet, block out all the sound, ignore the people, and just focus on walking. Just one step after the next. It seems like it takes hours for me to walk just a few yards, but soon enough I'm there, thankfully dropping onto the chair, any thoughts on etiquette gone strait out the window as I slump into the seat.

Apollo is seated in the opposite chair, thankfully different than the interview seats that were far too large, and instead subbed out for more simple, throne-like chairs for both of us. He offers me a reassuring smile, and winks at me with his off-camera eye, earning just the slightest hint of a smile from me. "It's a pleasure to be speaking with you again, Ms. Fairfax," he speaks softly, his voice warm and careful.

"You too," is about all I'm able to squeak out, barely loud enough for the microphone to even pick up.

"You've made quite the accomplishment, Glory, completely shattering the record for youngest ever victor- beating it by a margin of four years."

It's impossible to block out the sound of the crowd this time, a stage-shaking round of applause bellowing from the audience. My hands shoot to the handles of the chair, gripping on tightly and forcing my eyes shut, failing at attempting to keep my breath calm, rabid breathes shakily rising from my lungs. The applause lowers, but I don't pay any attention to that, not caring that I'm looking like an idiot in front of the whole country right now. I just focus on my breath, not letting myself think about anything else. In through my nose and out through my mouth, just like the doctor told me.

After what feels like hours of this, I manage to calm myself down, and as much as I want to just keep my eyes closed, shut off from the rest of the world- I force them back open, my first sight being a very worried looking Apollo. That sight is quickly changed as a confident smile appears on his lips, turning back to the crowd and telling them something that I don't pay any mind to, still blocking out anything I hear, refusing to listen to it. They can make me come out here, but they can't make me do anything else.

Luckily, Apollo doesn't ask me any more questions, instead gesturing for me to turn to the large screen ahead of us as he addresses the crowd. I don't need to hear to know what's next though, and my breath catches again, no air coming in or out as I forget how to breath, staring wide-eyed at the screen.

"In through your nose," I murmur as softly as possible to myself, Apollo only offering a side glance as he raises his voice to block out any hints of mine. "Out through your mouth," I repeat, going through the motions as a wave of jitters runs through my body.

Soon enough I'm back to normal, just in time for the screen to flip on, the words: _The 100th Annual Hunger Games Recap_ reading in proud lettering. I nearly panic again, just barely managing to keep myself calm, that mantra running through my head on repeat. There's nothing they can show me that can hurt me. It already happened, I already saw it, and there's nothing I can do to change it. Those were the words that Apollo told me, and I force myself to believe in them, as impossible as it is for me to.

There are plenty of other victors who did as much bad as I did, and if they all manage to keep on going, then so can I. It's that thought that manages to finally get me to lift my head up, looking the screen head-on. The Capitol has already thrown their worst at me, they can go ahead and do it again all they want.

That confidence lasts about ten seconds.

Right away on the screen the District One reapings come on, and I'm hit with pains in every shot. From myself choking back tears as I climb the stage, to the image of Helix, Lucian, Aurum, and I at the end of it- me being the only one of us still alive. The slight bit of happiness that comes every time I have that thought stings much worse than the actual thought of their deaths does- and that just continues the circle even further, a constant cycle of sickening guilt. Gloria's face pops into my thoughts, and as much as I hate myself for it, I find myself blocking out my eyes just twenty seconds into the recap, fighting back any thoughts of my District partner. I'm going to have to face that moment in just a few hours, and I don't want to have to see it in my thoughts any more until then.

By the time I'm able to force my eyes back open, the reapings are already over, and I suddenly become conscious of how long I sat with my eyes closed earlier in the interview- though I quickly dispel those thoughts. My mind is already enough of a mess without worrying about how much of a mess I really am right now. Which is what I'm doing right now, I guess. . . gah!

Shaking my head, I glue my eyes to the screen, watching as the final chariots pull away, the screen quickly being replaced by the reading of the scores, going over the most important tributes and most shocking scores. That's over quickly and painlessly enough, but I have to dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from jumping as the interviews begin, and I see myself shyly stepping out on stage.

As Apollo greets me, I can just barely make out him winking at me with his eye away from the crowd, and I mirror the small smile that appears on my lips on the screen. The interview goes surprisingly smoothly for most of it, my fear beginning to alleviate, my nerves settling just as the moment I had been dreading comes. There's a sinking feeling in my gut as I mention Concord, a coo of sympathy coming from the crowd on screen and in front of me now. Unlike the last time, though, I don't buy the fake pity, clenching my fists as the cooing quickly turns to applause as the camera switches to the girl that murdered my brother.

Any of my nervousness quickly vanishes, stomped out by a burning fire of anger at the people in front of me. The thousands of them, all pretending to care about me and my problems, but still perfectly willing to put anyone through hell just for the fun of it. They'll pretend to feel sorry for Concord, and then celebrate the girl who killed him? They're a bunch of sadistic hypocrites is all they are.

By the time I come out of my shell of rage, the interviews are over, laughter coming from the audience at my shock at seeing Gloria in the opening moments of the Games. Yet again, the sick feeling of seeing Gloria again is outweighed by the bitterness I feel towards the audience, not even bothering to hide the scowl on my face as I glare out at the faceless mob of humanity.

My anger simmers down quickly enough though, a sick feeling of guilt still battling with it, beginning to take control as I watch more of Gloria and I interacting. As much as I try to block out any thoughts of her, they quickly surface, racing through my mind. She killed herself so I could live. Unlike District Twelve or Two, where it was self-defense, or Amara, where we just didn't go to help her- I'm the only person to blame. The only reason that she's dead is because I'm alive. If I had the guts to do what she did, and just do the whole world a big favor, she would be here instead. Instead the person who deserves it the least is the only person who gets to leave the arena. The one who's responsible for _eight_ people's deaths gets to _live_ , how is that fair?

As the Games continue along, it isn't long before I'm outside of the District Twelve floor, completely unaware that in just a few seconds I'll become a murderer. I try to think back to what it felt like without that weight on my shoulders, but as much as I try to focus on the memory, I can't bring myself to remember what it was like. What it felt like to not always have that twisting feeling in my gut, that black cloud hanging over me, the memory constantly fighting its way into my head.

I can't bring myself to relive what happens next, bowing my head and shutting my eyes to avoid catching even a glimmer of it. The sound still makes its way through even as I press my hands against my ears, so I begin to softly hum, doing anything to distract myself from hearing that terrible sound again. That horrible sound that squeaked out from Nova, not even ever realizing what I did to him, the thud his body made as it rolled to the floor, the soulless expression Dakota had when she stared into my eyes. . . .

My breathing is going at a mile a minute, and with a gasp I force my eyes open, my hands shaking as they desperately clutch at the handles, doing anything to keep myself grounded. Anything to stop myself from getting lost in my thoughts. So as much as it hurts, I watch the rest of the recap, no matter how close I come to breaking down and crying, or how much I want to just scream. I watch every single one of the tributes slowly begin to drop, the number steadily falling closer to one. I watch through watery eyes as so many other kids die from the mutts, through bitter helplessness as Gloria kills Fiona, through sick regret as Noa jumps off the roof, more willing to kill herself than face us.

I feel like I'm going to vomit when I watch Fey's terrified eyes begin to slowly drift shut, and I very nearly do throw up when I watch Amara die, the only thing keeping me from crying being the bitter hatred I feel at myself as I'm forced to watch myself stand by and do nothing. None of that prepares me for what comes next, though. As soon as I'm forced to come face to face with Gloria again, every single horrible feeling I've felt over the past three hours all bottles together- one gut-wrenchingly sickening feeling overtaking every ounce of my body.

I force myself to keep my eyes peeled open, gripping onto my chair like a lifeline as jitters spread through my body, up my legs and through my arms all the way to my fingertips, a tingling sense of uneasiness.

On screen I watch as angry tears stream down my face, screaming up the sky as I throw away my weapons over the roof, and a part of me wishes for myself to do the same. To just end it right there, let Gloria go home instead of me, but instead I'm forced to watch, helpless as I see the battle raging in Gloria's eyes, her gun shakily pointed at my head.

In the end though, I already know which side wins out as she smiles, putting the gun down to her side. _"You're wrong, you know,"_ she says, and I swallow a lump in my throat, feeling every eye in the country on me as I stare at the screen, everybody waiting to see my reaction to what happens next.

On the screen I can see the confusion in my eyes, too defeated to even comprehend anything surrounding me. _"You do deserve it,"_ she says, and I feel my heart stop as she offers a sad smile. _"Never forget that."_

I hear the gunshot go off a moment later, and watch blankly as the canon goes off, ignoring the trumpets as I scream out Gloria's name, not seeming to even notice the splattering of blood dotting my face and hair. I'm not noticing that now, either.

My thoughts are still on those last words she said to me, my head spinning as I breathlessly flutter my mouth open and shut. The screen fades to black, but I continue to absently stare ahead at it, ignoring the world around me, those words still spinning around in my head.

"She's right, you know," Apollo's reassuring voice brings me back to reality, and I slowly turn to him, tears threatening to spill over as I shake my head.

"No," I whisper shamefully, staring down to my feet. Running through my head is a hundred images, a slideshow of all of the people who are dead because of me. The families who lost their son, their younger sister, their older brother. . . A single tear streams down my cheek as I bitterly shake my head again. "She isn't."

"Well," Apollo says softly, seemingly unfazed by my words. "Whether or not you think that you deserve it, you're going home. Is there anything you'd like to say to your family before you're reunited with them?"

I look back up at Apollo, my mouth gaping open as that thought hits me for the first time. With all the other things I've been distracted with, I almost forgot. . . I'm going home. Tomorrow I'll be back in my old bed, and I'll get to see mom, dad, Noble, Modesty. . . I didn't even think I'd ever see them again, and now in just one day. . . .

Apollo must sense the shock that's coming over me, as he gently sets a hand on my shoulder, giving a reassuring smile. "A lot to take in, I know."

"Yeah," I murmur, shaking my head. "It is."

Apollo seems to be biting his tongue, clearly wanting to say something more, but he glances at the audience, and when he turns back to me the look is gone. "Any final words you have for the nation, as Panem's newest victor?" Apollo asks, gesturing widely to the audience.

I scratch the back of my neck, keeping my eyes on Apollo, refusing to look at the Capitolites. "I hope that I deserve it," I softly choke out, my eyes watery as I force a sad smile onto my lips.

"I'm sure that you'll show that you do," Apollo smiles back, patting me on the knee before he turns to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the victor of the One-Hundredth Annual Hunger Games. . . Glory Fairfax!"

* * *

 **A/N: And there's the post-game interview/recap. Next up will be the train rides home, and then after that will be the epilogue/victory tour. You guys have had some really awesome submissions for the 101st, and picking just 6 to accept is going to be impossible for me. I can't wait to start writing the 101st, and now we're so close! I'll see you guys in a few days, with the train rides!**


	44. Turn Off The Lights

**A/N: So this is the last "real" chapter, with next chapter being the epilogue. This time we get some brief glimpses into the return home for Glory and Audra, and get a sneak peak for the 101st!**

* * *

 _~So sick of wasting all my time_

 _How in God's name did I survive?_

 _I need a little sympathy_

 _To sore my insecurities~_

* * *

 **Glory Fairfax, 9,** **Victor of the 100th Hunger Games**

 **June 12th, 2:27 PM**

 **Train Rides**

The doctor said that a good nights of sleep would make me feel better. He lied. I still feel that same complete exhaustion, and still have that tingly feeling in my gut. At least I've had an easier time blocking out any unwanted memories, but as soon as any of them break through into my thoughts- they still hurt just as much as before. The doctor said that it was normal to feel guilt right now- he called it survivor guilt, and he told me that it would get better with time.

When Apollo came to send me off, he told me something different. He said that when you go through the Games. . . it doesn't ever stop hurting, no matter how much time passes. That instead, you just. . . learn to deal with it. It doesn't ever get any easier, and you never get used to it, but it's just something that you have to live with. That you have to just keep on going, no matter how easy it seems to just give up completely.

Those words were oddly comforting, and the ones that stuck in my mind. When I woke up this afternoon, I got one of the avoxes to get me a list of every tribute in the Games this year, and for a half-hour, forced myself to memorize every single name on that list. Because Apollo is right, whether I think that I deserve to win or not, I did. I'm the only survivor, and it's up to me to keep on living for every single one of the kids that didn't get to. They died so I got to survive, and I owe it to them to make sure that their death meant something.

 _"The train will be reaching our destination in District One soon, please direct your attention to the nearest window."_ The feminine, monotone voice buzzes over the speakers, and I walk over to the nearest window, feeling only slightly awkward as I turn around to find the rest of the room completely empty. Most victors have their mentor and escort to be with them on the way home, but me. . . I have nobody.

That thought is quickly whisked away as I take in the sight in front of me, a small smile slipping onto my lips. The towering mountains in the far north stretch out up to the sky, to the west is a endless forest of luscious green, and to the east is a valley, the clearest water I've seen in my life twisting and turning down-stream. None of that is what I'm smiling at though. Because dead ahead of me is something one-thousand times better than any sight: home.

My eyes light up as my smile turns into a full-fledged grin, turning away from the window as soon as I can see the train station in the distance. My feet are carrying me as fast as they can, sprinting down the halls, skidding around the corners as I bubble up with excitement, everything else in the world evaporating except for the fact that I'm _home._

I giggle at the thought, picturing in my mind my family waiting for me just outside the doors. As I turn another corner I bump into an avox, the two of us both nearly tumbling to the ground as I continue running past, hollering back a half-hearted apology, stifling laughter as I continue down the hall. Soon enough I'm to the end of the hall, the exit right ahead of me, the rushed footsteps of the stewardess coming up from behind me as I stand up on my tippy-toes, jumping as I attempt to peer above the window just barely above my sight.

She laughs as she sees me, rolling her eyes and flipping back her hair. "You want a lift up?" She asks, earning an enthusiastic nod from me that has her laughing again.

Shaking her head, she hefts me into the air, and I peer out the window, my breath catching as I stare out in awe at the sight of me. Outside there's thousands of people, all cheering and chanting my name from behind ropes, a wave of encouragement I never expected to have from my district. The image manages to widen my smile even further, but it doesn't do anything compared to the people I see in front of the ropes.

Standing right next to the mayor and three other surviving victors, is the only four people in the entire world that I want to see right now. As the woman sets me back down the ground she has to practically peel me away from the door in order to open it. As soon as the sunlight seeps through the cracks, I'm flying through the door and outside, running as fast as I can, straight into my dad, throwing my arms around his back as I collide into him, keeping my head buried in his chest as I squeeze as tight as I can- not wanting him to ever let go.

He lifts me in the air, his own head buried in my shoulder as he chokes out a few sobs, but not the sad ones. The tears that roll down my cheeks aren't the same ones that I've been crying the past few days.

The whole world seems to fade away, all of the sounds and stares and people all around me disappearing, and it's just me and my dad- not a single other thing in the entire world mattering but us.

 **Audra Lee, 15, Victor of the 98th Hunger Games**

 **June 12th, 8:57 PM**

 **Victors Village, District Five**

I pause for a moment at the gate, the large sign reading in bold white letters _Victors Village_ , my fingers absently twirling the key in my pocket, gulping as I stare ahead with bated breath. This is it, I'm home. After almost three weeks, I'm finally back again. . . so why don't I feel excited? I should be thrilled, bounding up the steps to my home, finally seeing my family again.

So why is it that all I have is a sick feeling of nervousness? Last year I sprinted all the way from the the train station back here, but this time I took my time, every step as slow as possible, only picking up my pace when another person would begin walking in my direction, my head bowing as I anxiously covered my face with my hand.

Because the entire country knows everything that they made me do. On the whole train ride back I had to watch as on every single television channel they broadcasted every gritty detail. Every single terrible thing that I wished that I could just forget for the rest of my life, and now every time I walk down the street, I'll have to face knowing that every passing by person knows the things that I've tried so hard to erase from my memory.

My steps are hesitant as I make my way to the gate, shakily turning the key in the lock, the Peacekeeper guarding it nodding to me as I close the gate behind me. I'm suddenly glad for the masks that the guard is wearing, my eyes to the ground as I quickly walk past him, heading to the street, pausing for a moment as I step out in front of Caleb's house, his lights all turned off. Not much of a surprise really, for a week after the Games last year he was blackout drunk by six.

After spending a long moment lingering at the edge of his driveway, I force myself to continue down the sidewalk, my whole body beginning to shake in anxiety as I see my home, the porch light on, a shadowy figure barely visible. I freeze up for a moment, every bone on my body aching as I force myself to take a long step forward.

I'm going to have to face this eventually, might as well get it over with tonight. It was a crummy day already anyways,

Calming my breathing as much as possible, I begin to quickly walk forward, not giving myself a chance to second guess myself. It doesn't take long before the figure notices me, standing up out of his seat and staring for a moment, before quickly walking towards me, my dad's worried face illuminated in the light as he rushes out to me.

I slow to a near stand-still by the time I reach the driveway, him quickly stopping to a halt just a step from me, the two of us awkwardly standing just in front of each other. Dad hesitantly reaches his hand out to me, a pained expression as he forces a smile on his lips, gently brushing back the hair from my eyes. "Hey you," he greets me lightly.

"Hey you," I reply with the slightest hint of a smile, wobbly forcing it on my lips as I sniff back the tears that threaten to spill.

As much as I try to keep my smile in place, it isn't long before it drops from my lips, and just as a choked out sob rises from my throat, dad pulls me in, wrapping me in a bone-crunching hug that leaves me literally breathless. "I am never letting you go," he murmurs wistfully, gently running a hand through my hair.

And even though I'm barely able to gasp in air as he crushes me, I still tell him, "Me neither."

 **Tali Choice, 30, Head Gamemaker**

 **June 12th, 10:04 PM**

 **100 Colfax Avenue, The Presidential Palace**

Delilah and I are seated on opposite ends of the wooden desk, my twin sister hovering more than a few inches above me, already having the height advantage without the taller chair that the president's desk apparently gets. For the past few minutes the two of us have been making casual talk, though I can tell by the way the conversation is going that she brought me in here for something else. Delilah never has been one to do something without an ulterior motive.

"So, what did you really bring me in here for," I confront Delilah abruptly, too tired to play any more games. This has been a long couple of weeks, the last few days being particularly long.

Delilah is completely unfazed by my words, blinking back at me blankly. I've always been the only able to get away with speaking to her that way, and I don't see that ever changing, whether she's president of Panem or our junior high class. "As you know, it's been discovered that the previous administration had more than their fair share of corruption. The amount of excess money we have in our funds now that our leaders aren't taking personal cuts is astounding."

"So you want to brainstorm how to use the extra money we have. . . how much is it?"

"A lot. Enough to fund all sorts of new programs. Right now Games disapproval are at an all times low, from the breach of trust from our most recent leaders to the rather. . . harrowing finale, there are more than a few grumblings in the districts right now."

"I'm aware," I nod. "Our current plan is to have a tame Games next year, preferably one without five-year-olds in them."

A knowing smirk appears on Delilah's lips as she calmly shakes her head, leaning towards me. "My plan is much more complex than that," she proudly claims, leaning back into her seat and taking a long sip of water before continuing. "The next best thing to giving the districts freedom?"

"Giving them the illusion of it," I finish, well aware by now of this particular ideal of my sisters.

"And that is exactly what we will give them. I've begun to set up programs in all districts with murmurs of disdain towards the Capitol. A few opportunities for artists and athletes from District One to perform and compete in the Capitol, an exchange program allowing a handful of the smartest from Three and Five to come to the Capitol for university, a chance for top ranking District Two Peacekeepers to patrol in the Capitol. Small, inconsequential things that effect less than fifty people in all of Panem, but yet the districts will all be appeased by it."

"It gives them the allusion of hope," I murmur thoughtfully. "The most successful are often the most vocal, and the majority of the population will all believe that they can benefit from it."

"Everyone likes to think that they're special," Delilah murmurs, examining her glass of water for a long moment before turning to me and smirking. "But even with those programs, there's still plenty of funding left for my first priority."

"Your. . . first priority?" I hesitantly ask.

"That, dear sister, is where you come into play," she smirks, setting down the glass. "Last years funding for the Games was the largest in history, correct?"

"Yes, it was."

"This year it's tripled," she replies immediately, her expression offering no argument, even as I stare through her dumbfounded.

"Tripled?" I ask exasperatedly. "We planned on doing a tame Games-"

"Your plans have changed." She leans forward, looking me in the eye with a twinkle of something I can't quite read as she smiles at me. "I've seen some of your ideas, and they're brilliant. I don't care what it costs, I don't care how many scientists you need to fly in from District Three, I want you to get it done. Throw every last idea you have into these Games."

"Most of my ideas are just fantasy," I scoff.

"I beg to differ," she shrugs, taking a small slip of her water. "I fully expect you to live up to the expectations I have held for you, and if everything is to go according to plan, you will need to meet these expectations to a tee."

"So your plan is to overshadow a quarter quell- the second most popular Games in history no less- on a normal Games year, with an inflated budget and a notebook full of whimsical, pseudo-scientific dreams from my childhood?"

"Of course not," she scoffs, a knowing smirk creeping onto her lips as she leans towards me. "We're going to have a quell."

* * *

 **A/N: DUN DUN DUN! That's right, we're having another twist, because I love them and don't want to jump 25 years in the future because of side-plot reasons. The twist will be revealed on the prologue chapter of the 101st, so you guys will just have to wait to see it for now :P**

 **I hope that you guys liked this check-in on our cinnamon rolls from District One and Five, and I'm so excited to finally get to the thick of my plot now that the exposition is all over! We have one hell of a road ahead of us, and all I gotta say is: things only get more insane from here on out. We're doubling the ante for the 101st, so buckle up and enjoy the ride!**

 **Next chapter will be the final EVER for this story, and will be an epilogue chapter that will give us a check in on Glory 6 months later, as well as a final(well, for most of them at least) check-in on the fallen tributes' families and friends. Also, the dog will possibly return(and with a name!), so if nothing else got you excited you have that to look forward to!**


	45. Epilogue

**A/N: I hate the idea of ending a story on an authors note, so I'm going to have this at the top this time. This is the end, the final update! The prologue for the 101st will be up soon, and we'll be getting started on that by the beginning of August! So while I hope you guys enjoy this final epilogue, I'd like to just take a moment to thank each and every one of you once again for sticking through this story to the very end. You guys are what motivated me to finish this story. Thank you, and I hope to see you guys all in the 101st!**

* * *

 _~There's no good times_

 _This impossible year_

 _Just a beachfront of bad blood_

 _And a coast that's unclear~_

* * *

 _Note: The following text has been transcribed from the diary of Glory Fairfax, District One victor of the 100th Annual Hunger Games_

* * *

 _Entry Date: Thursday, November 24th, Year 100_

 _Hey, I don't really know what I'm supposed to write here. I was nervous about the Victory Tour coming up, and so I asked Melody(one of the other victors) for advice on what to do. While Galavant is a bit weird, and Luxor is just straight up mean, Melody has been helping me ever since I moved in here, so I figured she would be the best person to go to. So when she said that writing in a diary helped her out, I figured it can't hurt to try. After all, Melody managed to turn out normal even after what happened in her Games(I got curious after I met her and watched them, and whatever I expected, that wasn't it), so whatever she's been doing must be working._

 _I'm not sure what else to write, really. I know I'm supposed to talk about why I'm nervous about the Victory tour and all that, but. . . it just feels a bit weird to. I mean, I already know why I'm nervous, so why would writing it in a book that nobody will ever read help? But, I trust Melody, so here's why I'm nervous. I guess a list is the best way to do this?_

 _-District Twelve is first. What am I supposed to say to them? Nova's family is going to be on that stage. . . how am I going to even look them in the eye?  
-District Eight. It wasn't even self defense. We hunted them down.  
-District Six. I saw the final eight interviews on a re-run. How am I supposed to face them?  
-District Two. Rio was the closest thing to a friend I had in the Capitol. He watched out for me, made sure that Aurum would leave me alone. . . what do I even say?  
-The Capitol. Melody warned me that this one would be tough, and promised to "coach" me tonight on some stuff to avoid.  
-District One. Gloria._

 _Well, that's about it I guess. I'll. . . see you tomorrow? Am I supposed to sign out or something, or just end it? My pen is starting to run out of ink, so I think I'll just stop he-_

*The sentence cut off mid-word, with dull pen scribbles making the next words unreadable*

* * *

 _Entry Date: Friday, November 25th, Year 100_

 _Well, it's only been one day, but I feel like there's a million words that I need to write here. I don't really know where to start. . . alright, well, I asked Melody and she told me that if I don't where to start, then I should just go to the beginning. So, here it goes._

 _Melody's warnings made the Capitol sound really weird, not that I didn't already know that- but it didn't really make me nervous to go there. Drinking stuff that makes you throw up sounds weird, but not scary. . . I guess._

 _I had to wake up early to get prepped. They even had my prep-team and stylist(still can't remember his name) come in to do all the work, as much as mom complained that she could handle it. She did manage to convince them to ease up with the makeup at least, even if she had to fight tooth and nail for it._

 _After that came the train rides. Those flew by real fast. As much as I wanted it to last forever, it didn't take long until I was in District Twelve. What can I say about District Twelve? It's. . . sad, I guess. There's not really any other way to describe it. It's dirty, and dark, and smelly, and I didn't see a single person that didn't look sad, hungry, and tired. Even the kids weren't smiling. Makes me wonder how Nova managed to be so happy all of the time._

 _Nova. . . I don't even know the words to write what I'm feeling right now. His parents were young, really young. Both of them were trying to not cry, but it wasn't long until they both started to break down. It took everything in me to not start crying along with them. The only thing that stopped me was the guilt I felt. Why should I be crying when I was the one who killed him? It felt offensive to his parents._

 _Dakota was a lot harder than I thought too. Her mom seemed calm enough, but her dad looked like he would kill me if he had the chance. Luckily neither of the families were at the party, if you could even call it that. It was held in a small, dusty room with just a couple dozen people who clearly had no interest in me. It probably would have been the most awkward night of my life if Tristan wasn't so nice to me. It was. . . weird. I just thought that she would hate me, and after a night of avoiding her, when she finally managed to track me down, I was bracing myself to get screamed at. But instead, she. . . comforted me. She even forgave me._

 _Melody says that us victors, we all have to stick together, no matter what, because while other people can try to pretend to understand us, nobody really knows what it's like but us. I don't know if I could forgive someone who killed my tribute. . . but I guess we have to at least try._

* * *

 _Entry Date: Saturday, November 26th, Year 100_

 _Today was much easier. We visited District 11 and 10, and I never even talked to any of those tributes. In the Games I never even saw any of them, even though Fiona killed the pair from 11._

 _District 11 was sad, kind of like a bigger version of 12, where the sky is blue and the sun is shining, so it seems happy at first, but really, it's just as sad. Amandine's parents were both sobbing the whole time. Shade's dad and brother both looked calm, but I could see the look in their eyes and knew what it meant. They hurt just as much as Amandine's parents, they were just better at hiding it. It reminds me a lot of myself, almost. Whenever I watch that interview from six months ago, it feels so weird. I still feel the same on the inside as I did back then, but my family is always telling me how I seem like I'm getting better every day. . . I guess I'm just getting better at pretending, aren't I?_

 _District 10 was odd. The district and the tribute's families. The district was actually kind of nice, spread out and sunny and full of nature, but the closer the look I got, the less nice it seemed. For a district that makes food, everyone there sure looked hungry, and while there were a lot more smiles and laughing, I still saw that same sad look in most of the people's eyes. Mabel's mom was holding a baby, and was crying uncontrollably into her husbands shoulder, who seemed like he was only keeping it together for her. Oake's family was massive, and there were too many people there for me to even remember what any of them were like. I guess I wasn't really paying attention to the families._

 _Is that bad?_

* * *

 _Entry Date: Sunday, November 27th, Year 100_

 _District 9 was a lot like 11, except with less trees and more wheat fields. Otto's mom was crying the whole time, while the dad just stood silently. His little sister seemed like she didn't even care at first, but during the middle of my speech she started to cry uncontrollably. It was. . . weird, I didn't know what to do. I felt bad to just keep on reading the speech, but there wasn't really anything else to do. Izaak's family was the saddest family I'd seen yet though. Seeing him tell his family that he loved them with his last words during the recap. . . I expected a normal, loving family. But instead, it seemed like most of them didn't care, the only signs of that not being true being the girl just a few years older than me wailing her eyes out. While that wasn't anything I'm not used to by now. . . when the boys next to her started laughing at her for crying. . . I wish that there was something I could do for her. I thought that victors were supposed to be able to do anything, but I still feel like I did before. Like a 9 year old girl that's completely helpless._

 _With how bad District 9 went, I slept-walk through most of 8, and that was probably a good thing. The district was sad, not a single tree there, even the sky completely blocked out by the smog. They even had to give me a face-mask when I was outside for the speech. Nobody was crying, and I don't really remember much, but I do remember Fey's older brother looking angry. I thought he was going to try to attack me the whole time I was up there, and when I finally got out of there it was a relief, even if the party was weird. The mayor was keen to introduce me to their only victor, a girl named Mira who stayed at the party for all of two minutes before she darted away. She never said a single word to me, or even seemed to notice I existed._

 _It could always be worse, I guess._

* * *

 _Entry Date: Monday, November 28th, Year 100_

 _I'm starting to get homesick. Seeing the trees and rivers and streams in District Seven made me realize just how much I missed home, and just how much longer I still have until I get to go back. At least I have Melody to keep me company. She hates leaving home for anything, but did it anyways because she said that we could both be homesick together. I don't know how I would survive this without her._

 _District 7 had the first empty podium. I knew that Spark was an orphan, but I guess. . . I expected somebody to be there. Kieran had his parents up there at least, and neither of them really looked sad or angry, it was more like. . . regret. I don't think either of them looked at me once the entire speech, both of them just stared at his banner the whole time._

 _District 6 was way harder than I thought it would be. The look that Amara's families had hurt to look at. I've seen a lot of sad faces, but they looked. . . broken. Like their entire reason to live had been taken away from them. It's hard to not blame myself for that, and the fact that they weren't even mad at me didn't help. I just wish that they would have yelled at me, called me names, told me it was my fault. At least then I could just be done with this, but instead I can't shake this awful feeling. I know there's nothing I can do to change the past. . . but that doesn't stop me from wishing I would have done something different. Zarach's sister didn't help that feeling much, either. She went from crying to having a full-blown breakdown, screaming and clutching her head. A little girl who I recognized from the interviews had to come up on stage with her to calm her down, and even though the girl seemed to help, it didn't stop the soft sobs that came from her for the rest of the speech. The party wasn't much better either, with the mentor for Six giving me a nasty eye the entire time. At least he didn't say anything to me, he sure looked like he wanted to._

 _I just hope that this is the worst that it gets._

* * *

 _Entry Date: Tuesday, November 29th, Year 100_

 _District 5 and 4 today. Even though I never saw any of the tributes from either District in the Games, I still felt a bit nervous for District Four, I can't really even explain why- I just did._

 _District 5 went by as easy as these things can possibly go. The district was actually kind of nice. It was small, and while it was filled with power plants and there wasn't any nature, it wasn't dark, sad, and smoggy like District 6 and 8 were. The people there felt much more carefree, it was the first District I've been to where the people actually looked like they were having fun at the party. Armie's parents were both sad, while Fox's dad looked like a statue- and the speeches seemed to go by in a blur. While most of the party was actually fun(I even had a few people ask to dance with me, and even though I didn't want to at first, it actually was kind of fun), the only sour spot was their victors. The older man was drunk the whole time, and every time that I locked eyes with the girl she smiled at me. I know she was just trying to be nice, and Melody must have reminded me about twenty times today that we can't blame people for what they do in the Games. . . but how am I supposed to forgive the girl that killed my brother? Why should I even want to?_

 _District 4 was beautiful. I've never seen the ocean before, and to be honest, it wasn't as great as I imagined it to be. What was really cool wasn't the water, or the beach- it was the people. Everyone seemed so carefree and happy, like there wasn't a single care in the world. The party was amazing, hundreds of people at the beach, dancing and singing the whole night. I almost managed to even forget why I was there in the first place- and if it weren't for the fact that I was on a victory tour, this actually might've been one of the more fun days I've ever had. Marina's family were the typical Career family, kind of just. . . being there, and not really having any emotion. Celeana's family was much more broken up about it, but even they managed to hold in tears, fake smiles on their lips the whole times._

 _It felt weird to have the other districts actually seem happy for me. I expected for all of the districts to be like twelve, gloomy and sad and angry at me for taking away their kids. . . but these two seemed different. They didn't seem to care about what I did in the Games, and were just willing to celebrate and be happy for me- or at least use that as an excuse to have a fun time. If I hadn't been born in District 1, I would hope that I could live in one of these places._

* * *

 _Entry Date: Wednesday, November 30th, Year 100_

 _District 3 was weird. Lei's mom seemed to show at least a bit emotion, even if she wasn't anywhere close to crying, but Alt's family was. . . strange. I should have expected it, after seeing the interviews and all. . . but seeing it in person is a totally different thing than on TV. They all just stood there with a total lack of care, and while they weren't the first ones to do that. . . there was something else there. I don't even know how to describe it, it was just. . . weird. The party wasn't much better, I was still a bit giddy and excited after yesterday, and I was brought back down to earth when I got to the snobby, two dozen person party held in a dining hall with no dance floor. Nobody ever talked to me, but it always felt like people were watching my back, no matter which way I turned. The victor was the weirdest, he didn't even bother to pretend he wasn't staring at me the whole time. It was like District 8, but with a bunch of weirdos in it too. I think I'd rather live in 12 then there. I feel bad for the one kid in Alt's family(or the entire district, really) that seemed to have any sort of emotion. I can't imagine what living there would be like._

 _District 2 went a lot smoother than I imagined. Normally when 1 and 2 kill each other's tributes, there's riots at the victory tour about it. But I guess since Fiona was the one to try to betray us, they were on our side. They almost seemed to be happy that I won instead of Fiona even. Melody told me that 2 is super strict about honor, so I guess that would explain it. If that's true though, I don't know why they respect me so much._

 _Fiona's parents and sisters looked completely shocked. They weren't even sad, it was just like they still couldn't believe that their daughter was gone. Looking up at her banner, I realized how easy it's been to forget how young she really was, she was the same age as the girl from 6 after all. Rio's family looked pretty similar, and I could tell that his parents were barely holding it together. I went off script for the first time here, and I got a good scolding about it from our new escort- but I'm still happy I did it, and Rio's family looked glad that I did too. Rio was my only real friend in the Capitol, and to just talk about him like he was an enemy felt wrong. The party was really strange. There were tons of people there, and it was split in half between people who seemed carefree and happy and headed to the dance floor, and people who seemed to be looking down on them. It seemed like it was two different districts almost._

 _Now that I'm done with all of the other districts, I can't believe how fast it all went by. It's weird to see how so many other people live such different lives. Back in 1 we have so much. We have parks, and sports, and colleges, and rivers and mountains. But in most of the other districts. . . they don't seem to have anything. District 1 may not be perfect, but I wouldn't trade it for anywhere else in the world._

* * *

 _Entry Date: Thursday, December 1st, Year 100_

 _Capitolites are weird. I was ready for the throwing up drink, I was ready for the weirdly colored skin and hair, the ridiculous clothes, and the laughable accents. But even past the way that they look, they're just. . . creepy. It seemed like I was constantly getting stared at, and not in the same as I was as in Three. Melody stayed by my side the whole night, and she had to tell more than a few older people to get lost when they tried hitting on me._

 _I didn't really want to dance with any of the Capitolites, and while Melody tried to do one dance with me, with her disability it's a bit hard to(we both thought it was pretty funny having her try though). Most of the night I spent being introduced to all of the higher ups in the Capitol. I got to meet the new president and Head Gamemaker, who both acted nice, but were obviously faking it. Talking with Apollo again was nice, and he introduced me to his daughter and granddaughter- who were both really nice too. It was cool to have at least one other kid who was below 16 at the party with me- and she didn't have the weird accent or looks that most Capitolites have either. Both her and her mom seemed like someone I could meet in District One. It's nice to know that not everyone in the Capitol are as bad as I thought they were- even if most of them are._

 _After talking with the Capitolites, all of the victors(except for the ones from 8 and 11- who couldn't make it for some reason) met up and we went through some introductions. All of them were weird in their own way, but most of them didn't seem so bad. Melody kept on trying to get me to talk with Audra- she said that she's the only one that's even close to my age, but I still don't feel like I'm ready to talk to her, much less forgive her._

 _Every single other person there seemed like they didn't care what I did in the Games, even the woman from 12 chatted with me like we were long lost best friends. So I know that it isn't fair of me to hold Audra to what she did. . . but I just can't bring myself to forgive her. Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a victor._

* * *

 _Entry Date: Friday, December 2nd, Year 100_

 _I'm never leaving home again. Or at least, that's what I told my mom and dad when I saw them at the train station, but I guess I'll have to go off to mentor in just 6 months, won't I? It's tradition in District 1 that the year after you win you mentor by yourself, so I'll be doing it alone too._

 _That's still 6 whole months away though, so that doesn't matter. All that I care about now is that I'm finally home. This was the hardest speech I've given yet, but having my family there made it a million times easier than it would have been otherwise. Gloria's family didn't even care. Her parents looked almost. . . shamed. It made me angry to see them not even give a crap about their own daughter, and I don't understand why they could be ashamed of her. She deserved to win the Games, but let me win anyways. I don't see how you could ask for a better daughter, but I guess Gloria was right- as similar as we are there is one big difference between us. It just isn't what she thought it was._

 _Melody was glued to Galavant the whole time(I still don't know why they have to pretend they aren't a couple- it's not like they hide it very well), so I spent the entire party attached to my family. A lot of people came up to congratulate me, and I even got an offer to become a trainer at the academy- but I turned it down. Even though I don't have to go to school anymore, I still like to go, it's the one thing that's still normal about me, and I don't want that taken away from me._

 _I'll never be a normal kid again, I already know that. If I had any doubts about that before, they've all disappeared in the last few days. But I guess that this isn't all bad. I keep on going back to Apollo's words that he told me before I boarded the train after the Games. He was right, the pain never does go away. I still get night terrors, and every night I see the faces of the kids who won't get to live out the rest of their lives because of me. The pain won't ever go away, and honestly, that's okay. Because every time I think of any of the people who died for me to live, I don't get guilty anymore- I get motivated. It reminds me that I owe it to all of them to not just survive, but to live. To live out a life good enough for all 24 of the kids who didn't get one. To keep on going, no matter what._

 _One day at a time._


End file.
